A Borrowed Life

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Before I knew of choice My God was still. This empty cup Far too fool to fill. My eyes untrained to see, Were married to belief. My heart sought other than itself To find relief. This chambered heart so music deaf To never understand The meaning of the silence In a breath. Singular and insulated Dreams untouched by hand. Graceful dripping gossamer’s Whose icy touch I fought. Embattled black or ghostly white Forever lay uncaught My eyes still feel The curving of the light. My brain still bends In forming each new thought. So let me not disturb My Gods’ diminished sight, Or curse this borrowed life I wish I’d bought.

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