Figuring out “Self”

Almost mocking the sight of blindness
existing beyond any conscious delusions
He stands beside, once sworn ties
sweetly sundered beyond fractures
For the pieces hardly mattered
If only thine soul knew me?
How unapologetic-ally sullen
barren
starving for substance
Yourself wouldn’t want any dry breath
How quenched the stars became
Glorying clouds, rain, and thunder taste the same
Bearing upon lands who once
Once, once, in the lands came
Why had the lyrics sound the same?


Who wrote the remains?
Was it you or I?
How can we seem sane?
The Father who made us knows the name
So we roasted empty lines to explain
how one couldn’t say


When the syllables song
Almost desperately, slinging onto vain letter
Lines from shattered margins pong
None sung songs appeared again


I’ve somehow. . . . . .
That thing I spoke of a moment ago?
No don’t be ridiculous, It’s not
my show
only His

so the self that speaks
doesn’t exist
only one who exists
Not that the story ever is
Just simmers of warmth, covetous faces
Just a taste of essence

Lest the speak hold onto every
single spec, else your vessel
lose check,

For rotten fruits lost regret

Epilogue:

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