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Mesmerized to manifest
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PAPER PURSUIT
In my younger and more vulnerable years,
How I yearned for something to burn,
Like a farmhouse furnace during a famine.
Then came the Martyrs, the Messangers,
Disciples of deprivation---were they cursed?
They strolled the dead and quiet gardens
In a shamanic trance of ceaseless silence,
Stepping ever so tender, ever so tender,
Upon the rotten roots and loveless shoots.
When they departed---I wonder whereto?---
The next day our trees were in full bloom.
