Poem for Day 195 – 20150714
Living between the world's cracks,
fallen with no desire to climb
if I had somewhere to go.
Middlin of the start and end,
baby won't you take my hand,
guide a lost man from a past time.
Show me the future bright
outside my black and white
mixed to darkest shade of gray.
Colors to benefit a man
with soul rung out to dry
by a life's repeated histories.
Father confessor hear me now.
Sister confidant take my hand.
Ease my fevered memories.
Stretch yourself to find me here.
Seek the way station of the soul,
refuge of what's come and gone.
Throwing bones onto the ground.
Cast the smile of the Cheshire Cat,
knowing perhaps with nothing to say.
My thanks to the young and old,
seeking to bridge the hidden gaps
where cracks separate you and me.
Knowing heaven and hell,
transient of divine avenues
walking cracks where they appear.
This is my place as a ghost
haunting you with spilled words,
poured by a lost man from a past time.
© 2015, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.