“Yet Another Bowl”
Yet another bowl of dust, another breath, another seed,
A shoot begets roots at once ancient yet new, the turning
Of just another page, yes, perhaps, Esau’s recurring yearning,
Then, yields to hopes no longer feasible as the urgency and need
For bounty and attraction to unconditional surrender
Ceases, replaced by the babble of the tragic twins–Epiphany and Pathos.
Dubious laurels, these burgeoning virgin promises are clothed
As they always are with delicate buds, the natural down of softest tender
Affections, prayer beads that mark the days and yet again, another year;
Where to from here?
New and unexpected tears
Will dominate moralities; nations still fear
One another’s cry as helicopters
write the story beneath their crumbling walls,
Medallions for the latest arch of triumph raised before a final call