Bittersweet Unction

When i

(think i)

have turned

every stone

groan tired

fall down

pick up



fragments of ego




like husks from the gold & white seeds

carve reason through the river bed

stained black from the martyrs

and the heretics we’ve bled


empty bell

rings out

longest and loudest

acceptance of the

unacceptable inevitable

for now

and for never


sea change – polar shift

under broken bones

picked – apart – dispersed – no

chance for conjunction

cleaved by clever scavengers

with extreme unction for the faithless

to survive a little bit longer

the Diaspora of the human mind

Spirit corroded under

acid ocean swells and rain

blinding prophets and seekers alike

grown tired of the heavy light

the final night looms on any path we make



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