March 8, 2010

I hate to watch you drift,
De-purposed and lost,
Heavily bouncing,
without intention,
Falling by accident into places of gravity,
Like “isolation”, “selfishness”, “love-sick”, or “college.”
You disavow your sacred charge to choose,
and fail to see that this is choice enough.
The world is, for you,
Formless and empty again,
Waiting for a word of creation.
This time, you must speak it.

Your mouth is closed, though.
Sealed against risk,
sealed against pressing despair.
Your mouth is closed,
And so formless and empty the world remains.


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