Wednesday, August 8, 2007

it cannot be of Here.

sinking stones will not deliver us
to anything but dimly lit corners
look to the windswept kites instead
drinking the soul into oblivion
mere moments of escape turn empty
look to the airborne birds instead
enhaling flavors of poisonous forteaste
the calm will not outlast your breath
look to the puffs of clouds instead
tasting will not grant your wish
it will not fill your hungers, thirsts
look to the Bread of Life instead