I am a minnow,
In a sea of white.
What good is it to imagine
Greed, to have faith in materialism when
Ownership, seems but an illusion;
A plate, bearing gifts of seed, fruit, and
Haven’t I eaten enough of the heart
Of life, to make me
If hunger hasn’t left, if the belly still
Aches, then, what choice have I? but
To believe that I am
Eating, naught but hollow air and
And should it be blessings are few,
Should it come to pass that
The light, glows far,
Keep the lantern bright and angry
Do not allow a single droplet, nor deluge
To snuff it.
Should it turn about
That the night rolls heavy o’re the bright
Do not curve shoulder in, do not
Assault the dark,
And stake claim o’re
The flicker flame you bear;
Have not knees that bend—
But a chin that rises.
And to the waters I left for you,
To seek your double form into the winter.
To the hillsides and pits and scorching
Empties, I traveled, searching,
Parched for the drink of you that never
Wanes, nor slakes, nor dies.
An apple fell,
But never did I witness its shined mass hit the dirt,
Lost forever in the descent of a
Nothing, of an unknown.
There isn’t a conquest
If there is no end, no flourishing tree to break
The rims of the sky—
There is no why,
If there is no answer, however elusive
It tricks us into belief.
Mustn’t a river head to the sea? Mustn’t the oceans
To the will of the moon?
Of the water, and so I am pulled and
Traveling, for the sake of pull
Waking, at just the moment, to see
The draining, and torrent of me