Oath in the night that is quest for the silence
not isolation but reigning from afar on one’s expectations,
praise the hours that gave moments to build out of nothing
with recipes written in cold running water,
ode to renouncement when knitting vague feelings
as the cure for the lonely is walking away…

Why stay in a present when so many futures await
but out of deception and fear of the path,
the image itself is prone to corruption
when in the youth air felt heavy and wrinkled,
and for what the force without a place to stand
when one’s mind travel for the story isn’t there…

What was not said is the heart of true meaning
that bland grains can leaven to good fare,
but why ask forgiveness and pursue convenience
when the church is inside and not in the dreaming
and marching dough comes from believing
not in the many gods but in one’s inner singing…