There is no Pill
Or Beverage
That can fix
It
All—
One can run,
Into the open,
Escape the slaving dungeon,
But darkness
Follows, and condenses
Wherever He should
Lay to Rest—
One can forever
Run,
Only to realize
A Life’s Time
Is not enough
To hide.
So Young one,
You and your
Unspent Beauty,
Take to the Strenuous strides;
Learn to work
In darkness,
But resting in Light.
” Love has made you Weak!”
.
“No, Love made me Strong.”
You were told
To close your eyes,
So you do–
Without suspicion,
Eye-lids
Shut
In an automatous,
Curious flutter–
Then,
A miniature
Bouquet
Lay
Beautifully
Delicate
In your hands.
Fresh, delightful,
And fragile–
Too good
Were they, for
Your more wicked
Self cringed
At their sight–
Exuding a new gleam
In that cold night,
In your hands
A gentle cradle
of Love and Joy;
Some of which
You still
Cannot understand–
Like a sound
Of Redeeming
Purity
Amidst a fallen
Mecca-full
Of deafened
Drums.
A dose of sweet medicine,
Leaving you blessed and terrified—
Were you sick
Before,
And were you
Only then,
Upon inhaling Innocence
And Scent,
Finally beginning to,
Through
Great Effort,
Wakened from an
Ageless Neglect,
Overcome
Your Fatal
Illness,
And become Well
To and for all
Once again?
“Don’t die
You’re just a baby,
Yeah you are way
Too young;
You haven’t Lived
Til you’ve been
To the Grand Canyon.”
——-The Wind and The Wave.
The Rain clouds
Had come down
And washed
The Dirt
Away—
It got cool,
Wet, and Gray
For a while,
The air anew;
Once more
Un-stifiling—
A Revival Breeze.
Then the Sun
Peeked out,
And slowly
Brought the Sky
Back to day;
Its
Late afternoon
Brilliance shone
Gentle yet luminous,
Tranquilized
By the impossible,
Afterward caressing
Of the Rain.
Though
In great pain,
I was Happy
To Live
That day.
I know that the night
Brings you down
On your knife,
But it’s all right—
Darling it’s no crime.
Better yourself,
Know that got lost
You shalt,
But it’s all good—
Darling it’s no crime.
—Hands In the Garden
shared between two
something about death is certain but life is not?
Particular Moments 