I have been annihilated so many times.
At the point of a moment.
On the thorn of a word.
On the barbed wire of hate.
Through hidden hypocrisy.
On burning roads,
In worlds made bitter.
I have been annihilated so many times
I can’t remember the time nor place.
Still I return and am reborn
And on the new I become renewed.
Through the breath of the wind
Through my own tears
Like a little seed
That is sown in the fall
I become a part
Of a new scroll
Signed with a single star.
I’m still as spendthrift
As ever I have been.
However few hours fate will leave me,
Though I must ponder that solemn hour,
At end of earthly days.
And though I am aware
Of each hour now so beguiling,
I just pretend it’s all it’s ever been,
When every dawn I knew was bright and blue.
And fancy bears me to boundless worlds,
At each brim of night
At each edge of day,
World that are anointed with a silence
And opened wide to silvered paths.
And midst the way I am approached,
By footsteps soft and bare,
Leading on toward waiting meadows,
Of my poem’s first-born…the word.