They Shot Beams
Quite a few of them tried rather fervently
To reach the light that hangs in bows
Sent sideways perversely
Through shadows of mist-like moonbows.
Or like a sundream cascading down memories
They’d trap in their heart’s chest-like the irony of the lion
Loving the lecherous acts of temporary reveries,
While believing and denying the truth of their carrion.
Like the lambs of our lives, the ancients walked with their lips
From the caves to the clouds they sung their pain
Turning self to others and rocks to ships
They gave us a sweet emptiness that had no name.
They shot beams of shades of truth and fire cries
And sung the leaves at night their stars and knelt grass
With bugs that served us plain through bark and breeze
Tries hard to not see the discrepancy between the moment one passes
And the moment one has to pass.
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