Lord, use my tears.
Love you dear
for these here
love me near.
My dear oh world my alright sometimes bright abyss burst and split wide,
oh oh right open,
this aint a goddamned thing about knowing.
No no, here's going
deep down in the bloody guts of earthheart and dirtworth,
in the place so central that centers themselves go to feel at home,
into the oh-no undone rawness too-far-gone in-the-middle-of-the-sun shit.
Cry, cry, it's tissue time,
but then I rise -
Are you still here?
And how have I impressed upon,
how will I be met anon
by all of you in all this fear?
How has this mere honesty landed
in the unsettled, shifting, ticking sand of our existence?
moments of bellowed eclipse
What will I say
when I ask myself
at the end of my life,
"What would you do
if you could do it all over again?"
What would I say
if I could visit my past
and ask my adolescent soul,
"How then will you live?"
This now all entombed in just the half-hour extraordinary rapture of what would be an ordinary confession amongst peers and yet seems to incarnate an encompassing rage of joy.