Blue
soul and chaste angel,
You
fail to recognize
The
path by which old myths fell;
Like
scrim of a red dawn scraping the skies.
Stumbling
through a life you knew only in name,
Unclear
yet compelling links are sold.
Like
smoke rising in joists of a wooden frame
Hands
explore where dreams unfold.
In
tune with the far-off purr of power lines,
A
measured breeze cradles the tide.
Does
this mark the end of one season’s crimes,
Or
render inert a memorable ride?
Tortured
psyche and estranged urban guise;
What
essential qualities will settle and sift?
It
is best to know when sailing the vessel
That
things unmoored tend to drift.
