and sting the soul of the left behind
we must mourn
for our souls were sworn
to secrecy in this deep night
to imagine the fragile petals
breathing with delight
despite the fright that must come before
the gentle opening of each and every door
we must swallow the sound
and touch the ground
of our sorest and poorest wounds
seeping from the weeping
that wept in the night
the shallow light that spreads
over our heads and leads us to
right where we belong
to song
to truth which is essence
which is gleaming and streaming
thru the precious remembrance
of lives left upon the brink of existence
wondering if they were to breathe
would they shudder thru the sieve
of this world
strained thru to be a part
of that which leaves too soon
parts and wholes
and partial tolls and lifts and lefts
and rights and tests and matches
and catches and streams and patches
of evening glow
if only we could know
the truth behind the flow
so slow are we, though
in percieving the rationality behind reality
and even as the light penetrates
our damp skin, with our illusions of sin,
we struggle to find the easiest way in
a place to begin
to swim in the immense sea
that is me
that is you
that is everywhere embodied in truth
and therein we sing
we sign our names to the times we've tried
but hence have died
over and over again
to begin again
and perhaps be free
of that binding grief
that we percieve as gripping
so tightly around
that which we believe to be
ours.