Restoration

 



Life & stress alone
yet owned
by the dirt of dusk
& evening chill,

lord of fools
come to fly
on temple dust-

a modern daze, faith: declined
the ~pleasure snake~
whispered on
golden time-held
tongue & trial


worth its weight
in salt & loss-


the toll of the street patrol,
gloats & glaives
the halcyon days
across our


throats…


heart & soul
(each with brain)
dawning upon
the basking
basilisk gaze:

the Old Man is
                 always
                           down the road~


to sweat the fear
of king & fool
‘neath the fleshing hill
of bygone days…


urge & cry


outside, alone,
ancient house
is settling still


a poignant driven
nail of time
through an aching spine,


(thoughts &
 prayers are
 bones in stone
 by then)


gone to dust
on the groaning wind.


Convalescing
tears & earth
disowned.


No fool of dirt
come to speak
the final rites
at the burial site.


I welcome home
my bones to stone.