
In all my dead living
I have not known the liberty
of midnight, the dull winds creep
across these lands with swift movement,
consuming evaded souls that harass the
sleeping minds and the empty hearts.
In all my dead living
I have not known the cure of morning,
reaching across from me, a woman, to
hold my hand and open her womb to me.
The brilliance of waking and knowing
her name, she arises and calls to me.
In all my dead living
I have not known the soterial of pain,
only memorizing my scars of irony.
Playing God to my own sins, learning
the faults of love through windows of
self defiance. Harming my self again and again.
In all my dead living
I have not known the minacious whisper of light,
Calling to my soul in dark corners, irreptitious
light calling, fleeting, fleeting, gone.
In all my dead living
I have not known..........
life



































































128 old applause
