Friday, September 17, 2004

Thoughts for a Thousand Miles

tasting the sweetest sour wine
that hits and burns your throat and heart
and you lick your honey lips
and say, "is there anything more than this?"
in the summer of your discontent

seeing a passionate revelation
of a one-song glory that doesn't mention you
while angels cry out holy holy holy
with tongues of fire in six-part harmony
and you counter that you still
haven't found what you're looking for

living a lie to yourself just like
you lied to everyone else you loved
and hated in a paradox
like God like her like him
all these prodigal sons and daughters
and the gracious father as well

saying all these words that come
from your head and not your heart
the conscious oxygen that fills your lungs
but doesn't dare your muscles to move
and raise a clenched fist to the sky
to be held and filled by someone else

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