Make
What can I make of the black dirt, upon men's faces,
and of their words, rock salt, becoming rust.
What can I make of their derailment, their unjust
outspokenness, as even lust
determining their origin - adjust!
To this contain, I bust
-wide open,
with my own hard words,
and thought's accost.
What can I make of life, my own invest,
as eyes are open to arrest,
of difficulty, to a test.
What can I make of time, that teaches me unrest -
And so, I make a rhyme,
and pray, that you find blessed
some making of divine,
unshaken crest.
What can I make of - why I am,
without a thee to nest!
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