All my expectations plumb
the fallow heart and succumb
to that resignation that starts
to beat and hum and then charts
an exit, a surrender, a retreat.
I have stood on the uneven hill
I listened to the raven shrill
All my childish revelations
alight upon stony frustrations
I thought I knew, I thought I knew
all about what is good and true.
I plunge my hand into the earth
And tell myself to await rebirth
But single moments cascade
and in no time a decade
whispers then roars a tirade
Against what this wayward soul paid
the scent, the tamarind, so afraid
To burn to cleanse all desire
urges me to let transpire…
Time for an end to this lament
Or the rains will spew their torment
I pull my hand from the gasping ground
What rests what sleeps may never be found.
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