Kevin

It used to be
that I would not let
the Mystery into my soul
without shoes.

How long until
this trampled grass
touches the breeze
again?

I feel the stinging vacancy
Where they have
Drawn you back.
Half my world is gone.
Half my world.

When I look to you
I see an angel
Bound by broken chains
Mystery dead at your feet
Love on the altar
Of a vengeful god

So much accounting
Who owes me what and interest accrued.
That look. I saw that my friend. Tallied and stored.
That laugh, that tilt of the head now accumulated and compounding

Can you feel it --
The thriving flame
The happy flash that flows
Through every vein;

The bond
The clasp
Of seperate vessels
Unique without and within

With identical cargo
In secret holds?

The author of your dusty text
Could be human or divine
But no fleshly hand could paint the stars
Or carve the rocky footprints of time

Don't talk to me of authority.
If I am deceived
The God Himself deceives me

lungs once filled with spring well with blood empty like promise falling to ground cracked with groundless trust so simple so pure so misplaced gone ripped away like band-aid on skinned knee so lovingly applied so cruelly removed one sharp sting fast to fade is best but this one is the last there

When you may live or you may die
Always bet on life.

You'll only lose once.

Fearing tomorrow
Embraces stinging nettles
That have yet to grow.

To the hearthless
Each snowflake bears a threat
Composed in icy blades,
Of the hungering wastes;
Dusting deep desperation on
Frostbitten fingers
Just off the edge
Of a Currier and Ives.