Gifts That Lie Untaken

Honest as the night is long eyes that have no holes and teeth that never show. Sinews Strewn in Straw-like manner making Shadow Men whose bellies all lie lit with ash of Golden Yearnings. Crawling on this dangerous beach searching for strings and springs of learning; bubbles and froth, to tend their unmet reach. Distant distilled feelings gathering Storms of Skin, erupt into lives’ another’s known. Passion woven to the rug another trods; lives devoted to another’s Gods, whose swiveled mind collects all tired worded insects. Where the Middle of Divine leaves no footstep unworn And we might well ask, “When is the middle of what we might have become”? Did we alight, Create this Life, Whose Memory then, Our Living Proof. Black Smile manufacturing unknown Holy Grief wearing shroud of Laughter to Ignite following empty eyes that hunger deep within the Audience of All. We Pride Ourselves to Give the Gift of Life accept with indignation lingering; rosaries in prayer fingering waiting for ourselves to slow awaken No Thought at all to Gifts that lie Untaken.