Checks You Can'T Cash

Do you live your whole life in a partially filled space Do you swear up and down about reasons defaced Do you sing in a choir where the music has died Do you brand all as liars as your knots remain tied Do you rob from the master just to steal from the slave Do you live in a mansion built on top of your grave Do you look for direction on trails hollow and thin Does your soul beg correction torn away from within Do you begin every sentence tracing back to the past Do you live every moment —writing checks you can’t cash (Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2016)