A Needle In a Hayastack
A needle in a haystack I am
Lost, beyond the boundary of my being.
It is a tiny universe you say
Finite from infinite end to infinite end
And still no bigger than the one
Whose voice wrote the words of its origin
And did he not came to seek and find me
But yet I am lost again
Among the infinite smallness of things
On my brain flipping their little wings
I can understand the needle
Lost in so much straw, the infinitely small
Lost in the relatively infinite pile
Waiting to reek some future in havoc
In throat, or skin, or trembling bowels
In all the places I feel the phantom fear
But cannot find myself as easy as a tear
Is found to irrigate each thought I spawn
With black wings cluttering the raw dawn
Dripping, leaking all its contents to find me
Wanting a Calvary again.
Night's dark bottom drained
Has no clue how deep I am in since Adam
Opened the spillway to the bottom.
Hell is a far place down in me, I cannot climb
Out by myself, except heaven, the farthest place
Away, hear loudest my whispered cry for help.
Go winnow you haystack to find your lost pearl
Here, the pearl winnows me, and still I find
No trace of me in me, I am too scrubbed
By all the bleached out years of black history.
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