I’ve been the depth of everything, but never the deep: A poem 

The water of weightlessness 

is not the gravity of my soul 

I was avowed to turn every fallen stone 

back to the idols of my temple 

Should you attempt to tear the tears of my face, 

you will learn they are the blood from your treachery 

I know the truth is faultless, peerless, 

even with the shame that on me befell 

Because your lie was not flattened out 

but it was an expanding sinkhole of a well! 

I have memories of that priceless singular gem 

that none of the rapine can make its totem 

I never walked through those shallow religions 

and never sought the blessings of their deep  

None can blame me for having swollen feet, 

but you may see your reflection in your teeth!  

I do not pause to reflect those wasted aeons 

even though this soul still feels unfelt grief 

I know your evil was never brief 

All my love was, though, a victim of you, thief! 

How everything of mine became your money?! 

You think, now, you can offer me some of that stolen ambrosia as snare-honey? 

And should I pause to think how every word of mine I had to disown, 

because the plagiarism was intended to hijack my soul and my own 

But I can say though your treachery was so overwhelming, it cast me out alone 

 It caused me drought but didn’t scald and parch my bones!