Sincerity And Innocence Lost
Like Two Small Children Lost In Their Own Garments
Looking For A Way Out Rather Than Taking Them Off
The Smoldering Flax Snuffed Out
By The Flame Of Its Own Desire
A Bruised Reed Broken
By Its Resistance To The Wind
Seriousness Waxing Love Cold And Heavy
While God Laughs
A Blind Man Trying To Paint A Picture Of Himself.
A Elaborate Sculpture Of A Tree Made From Its Own Wood.
The Formed Trying To Force Life Into A Form Of Itself
Like A Clay Vessel Swallowing Up The Potter Spinning It.
A Dictionary Defining Itself
Man Making Himself In His Own Image
One Who Buries Himself In His Work
As One That Digs His Own Grave
Is This Love?
Or Is Love This?
Perhaps We Forget That We Forgot.
We Fear We Have Lost Our Keys
Searching For Them
While They Are In Our Hand.
The Last Place We Would Look
Is The First Place
We Find
What We Never Lost
In The First Place.

Nice poem .