Saturday, May 12, 2012


The quests of youth changed nothing,
I know what I’m about.
Parts I like, a voice to hide,
Burdens of old doubt.
Roots of remorse entangle each step,
Choked on abandonment’s ashes.
Spent, clouded eyes at midnight’s black bars,
Relume at egos colliding.
Inching higher, reaching, depleted I fall,
Buffeted dry seed in the wind. 
Hubris exposed, a vapid facade,
Desperate I reach for the One.
A God of Hope is what I hope,
Worn soul of gossamer thread.
Purgacious falls, frigid pools of his grace,
Relief from the moment’s grey dread.
Dreams of my children, sleep’s border guard,
Disappointment, confusion my gifts;
Yet uncontained laughter, as we wrest cross the floor,
Enfolds me in their love.

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