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.