Inner Heights

Something in this life Does not accommodate us Knowing A purpose beyond mere living Does not encourage us To linger long in our inch of life Above the paltry start of dust Above the cancerous bleed Of common pain And I shall not celebrate this Nor let go of the string of bliss Though it slips and slides And tear into my veins I know I am better than The clay From which our life began Because of something more That faith alone can clutch And hope alone can know So when others ask The reason for the ritual task Of life from day to day I in a deeper wisdom bask A confidence Of one who willing prays A sense primeval Of a corrupt upheaval Veiling my belonging In the wealth of who I am For I can feel the fingers still On the outline of my dust The knee beside the little hill Of space, his face bowed upon my crust The mouth my throbbing lips embrace The kiss of life upon my breath The abnegation of void The vacancy of death And then to see To know the first behold The glory of who I am The mirror murmuring with gold The sheep above the lamb And I will not relinquish What grace has furnished For me to see Beyond the mess and mesh of flesh Beyond the iniquity of a wretch.