For I know not
To what end this journey walks
In this wandering to trace the
Outline if my breath.
The fat path that thins and
Declines like light in a dying eye
A sense of squandered hope
The metal lift before an ant
The pestles ranting
The wails akin to the cradle
And you
Your face like petal-laced garden
At sunrise
Your smile, gashing into my soul
Your eyes....
Staked into the voyager's sac
When then
The seed becomes a cathedral for wings
And the highway cuts through the heart of our trust
And the grays leaves behind vestiges of tombs
And my smile becomes hidden by weed
And you,
Will your heart partake in this molting?
After the march past of eastern risings
Will you........I fear
For I know not
What end this blindfolded path
Whittles in this wandering to
Trace the outline of my breath