Spirit

I feel watery today, unsure of myself, unable to

Bring the peace I crave so deep in my soul

Who will help me? Who will hold me?

Not this earth, not these

Wanderers

As lost as me

Jesus

Is the only stillness

In this whirling chaos.

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We-death

I lose my breath for the ways we wept

Carving our chains from the sorrows we claim

I curse my hands as they build my plans

The coffin sized for me that I lovingly heed

Each step towards my death I shriek as I grin

I cannot stop mourning even as I descend

Why do we not cease all this clamor and doubt?

I know what will save me but I grieve anyhow

We built our own tomb-traps but we gild them and stay!

filling the rooms with silver decay

Floating our corpses in gold-blood and gloom

We’re certain this death will not be the last

We’ve died so many times in the past

gap

Sometimes the greatest poetry…

Rage, silent storm;

Is the absence of any.

The quiet, heavy ladled

Only over the story..

Power un-endowed.

You would tell, but refuse.

Respect me, or I will blow your memory like dust into the wind.

You do not deserve any acknowledgment from my breath.