showered the ground below with my timeless zeal.
Here in the motionless lake
we steal one last grain of sand
in the sand storm.
Is this all there is, replete with big screens
and temptations of rock stardom?
Plate after plate passes, and we tithe our
guilt to the summoner, bury our hands in
our common power to pray.
I held the last days in my heart, shuttled
here by the wind off the mainsail.
This is it, mentored by some force catapulted
from red clay and generous headwaters.
I held on. I held out for more.
I held out for more and nothing came
through the door.
