Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Blond Enclosure

Even the desolate places
Are in touch with the holy
The sober sacred still
Ideas that went
Even the objected ones
Who are only private
Sparks of a flame
Half-spoken plans obliged
Out of blond enclosure
Lost and forgotten
Skeptical prophecy considered
Fascinating by a second
Even the dust and the dirt
Dried up alongside
A tangle of weeds
Deserves the full
Touch of the divine crisis
Events and gaunt heavenly
Dawn in desperate
Need are no longer aware
Of their holiness lost
And forgotten and
Sacred all the same.