Even at the darkest places
where evil may have traces
there is beauty how one faces
(despite reasons for fear’s basis)
how one finds even then, pure graces.
River’s bottom where mud is alive
thick; Lies the essence that derive
the Lotus’s beautiful petals pink thrive
from the seeming dregs lie the hive
whence all beginnings derive
form to an immutable survive.
Running thru the endless days
To sit still upon the minute nights
Finding and losing all ways
To grasp at time’s cherry delights.
Saving rhymes and chaos of a tenuous
past,
Like stones stowed into measured baggage,
Heavy; strident verse packed into sage
adage
To sink like weighted tomes to sea’s
depth; Vast!
The long yellow pier with splintered
plank
Excludes no one of the wickedly desired shank.
Nor of the gentle touch of the holy ghost.
Unless and until one accepts that
perpetual host.
Behind thee the storm’s dark clouds chase
Crying out for reasons for this chastened
base.
Pray! Pray, pray for dawn’s bless
For all sins forgiven demand the damned
confess.
Peer into the shadows of the grey
Where chary forgiveness of an idyllic quiet
stay.
And then too – scream with cursing desires;
Exploding like wretched waves from the inferno’s fires.
