Once truth in desire, always truth in desire?
Though I pore hard and poke through the ashes
I find no tools to show me my way
I fright at the loss of what has been known
And of dropping into a morass of new bones.
Those bones they are sharp, they are old and not new,
Those bones are many and keep me up long at night.
I dare not prod nor poke these bones, for surely a poke will be returned.
My wanderings leave me stranded with clueless eyes and unforgiving thoughts,
Heart hardened for protection against internal workings.
Uncertainty is no comfort for change
Tears no relief from misunderstood pain
‘Twas once a thought inside my head, “this heart wants love before it is dead”
Where goes that thought now?
Where treads that heart now?
Or is it lost among the trampled?