my my hey hey

it is only now 

that i have begun to realize

the fading enigma of the torch

that lights my soul.

i need another line,

potent enough to cleanse

the cancerous poison 

of doubt and drought 

clogging the arteries

within my heart.

in my 27 years 

i have not become a name.

i have not stood upon

the throne of immortal gods.

my tombstone will not read:
one writ in water.^[1]

the wind whispers 

and darkness drops again.

the moon does not lie fair

the center does, indeed, hold

we have been placed here,

as a pedestal, upon which the everlasting, 

eternal night, overcomes the rising sun.

forgive me of my trespasses:

i want to

touch, smell, taste, 

and feel love.

---

^[1] John Keats’ (1795 - 1821) tombstone reads: “Here Lies One Whose Name Was Writ In Water”