Nothing

Vastness sound across the void
There’s nothing left
To say or do
How
Much, when or where
Have never mattered
Thought began
The ceaseless toil of
Time
A riven window gravely
Gone unless the lovely
Magic justice could
Prevail, until the feeling
Went
Away; I told him
Never to bear the
Heartaches lightly never
To hobble beyond or
Bind
Himself to appearance
Shivering bones or
Past-tense quarter note
Desires.

Fortunate

Fortunate soul growing neither

In night shade nor quite enough to

Allow no rhyme

Nor

Reason on behalf of

His shame,

His holy hand in fear.

Understand, this isn’t unique

To certain departed wilderness

Lives to certain

Elements of heart ache

Nor

Disdain; this is fortunate enough

To emphasize exactly how

Much a very small deadly

Dream could go on rummaging

The troubles of a compassion

That didn’t know how

To end.

On a bridge throughout a sandy

Marsh across a lake of mortal

Sins he swung along a

Curse nobody disappoints

A garden of

Diminishment and

Heightened unconvincing

Lies, in height

And in splendor does the

Beauty of her heart

Dwell, fortunate enough to

Lash one more time his admiring

Vesper resolutions his interest

Accruing flight across the

Heavens.