Would this light be foreshadowed
or overshadowed, or simply be cornered
taken away before it melted out of its density
left in the arms of burglary. You have still called it light!
And must the shade of darkness, left behind, propel you to reclaim the loss?
Does the universe of such disparateness have only threads and no spine
that it cannot remember or vindicate that which was divine?
The artist has found that his palette must only seek
the contours of his primal creation; the artwork
being irreplaceable, inimitable. How does a magnum opus
reassemble itself after being violated by inimicality?
I have opened myself to a resurrection from each devastation
like a cloud that brings rain, even after it dissipates
I am not a desert that only reminds itself of past profusion
You can see that abundance narrows down to a point
where every fallen particle rises back to a unison
But this must be beyond that poison!
Am I waking up to sleep, or is it another awakening
beyond contradiction? The story was not foretold;
yet was everything, that repeated, preordained. That God should
find himself on the frontiers of defeat…and win back the trophy!
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