Slain
by mere words, poetry, awakened by bladder and bird, both mocking my
rest joyously
Her,
'had she said yes', Pamela Joyce whatever did quail last word, 'will
I kill the future of you'
in
saying now YES to me? Slightly pass the midnight hour I am
awake having no doubt save for Annie who loves me well and truly,
what mad jealousy will arise in her? M reminds me she is a rescue cat
living by my asking for her love and at that an only child Yet now M
P and me and Annie have had difficulties with our parents time
healing all wounds with modest efforts.
There
seems a seemly comeliness organic between us by The Parent
mother/father creation announced by rages of sages simpering and
shouting ideal. Whose perfection I no longer doubt while knowing my
imperfections better and those apparent in all life the World
distempered by US we all too many now. Knowing the many goofs gaffs,
slips between cup and mouth am I a fool for love of course.
And
told by the creator of this our magnificent stage that I am to
acknowledge the suffering to become this minute myself born by all
the minutes and hours preceding to be here now glorious. Having
grumbled a lifetime I now sing the particle apparent in all I meet
even my executioners formerly restive resistant reluctant now I sense
it is the interlocutor who directs their play as well.
Not
sure I could advocate the same for the father/mother of a daughter
diced scattered in potters anonymous field but being well acquainted
with my own sorrows and griefs healed I would listen their woe while
holding their hearts in my embrace certain all the means and measures
of man will pass with this constellation away love ideal remaining
imperturbable.
I
sense my course run to prove the interlocutor who now directs me to
move into life confident.
We
are of, by, for the origin evolving more and love's never lost
convicted.
130509
01:15 just past midnight
©
2013 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved
