Mesmerized to manifest

Folder: 
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.

 

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