Grasping air for solidity and form
arching, careening on paths unborn
scribbling on pages about my mind
unable to compose the forms of lines
endless days of searching
spent on gazes too long
the skyline's endless arching
my lostness in the throng
I am back now to the floor
roving through the store --
house of collected observation
gazing splendor, desired culmination
trimming hopes, and subduing ill
while bending down, remaining still
let it come to pass -- this all,
the predetermined path, a call
for in it I will walk as such
loving nothing half as much
As the discovery made those days ago--
as I recall the things I know;
vapor passes and burns away
as with the dawning of a day
and I am such with life and breath
condense me to great spring rain
that a passing mist would give great gain
and the withering grass preserved ere long
as the fading mist rises in a song
Clumsy words, and faltering steps
I am a particle, composing at best--
Little vain arrangements of all that I hope
and wishing right now they be lifted to float
For there is such a push that in them I feel
and without You, I descend, plummet-- I reel
Grant what is best, for I see only shadows
and the shading of all that has risen, then fallow
Are you back to writing now?
ReplyDelete