Today talked of victory
for the new Nasruddin
as a [[song]] reached fever pitch
spreading [[light]] from the speakers,
like it did last [[night]] when this candle
enflamed a crying [[heart]], carried it
right through to morning,
swimming now
in winter sun so stark
it stripped the [[beach]] of anyone,
literally, the whole thing
completely empty, just
the fractal regularity of
curling rhyme which waves

me back
like those treasure maps you drew
as a child, unconscious that your act
was ultimate compassion,
just so we could [[remember]] today
that maps don't guide others
so much as persuade them
that the journey is worth making;
that there really is a chest at the end;
that, really, it is the same
as the one which travelled with you,
beating all this [[time]],
here to help you taste the [[truth]] of [[death]]
and drag you back to endless [[life]]
lived in between.


  • Keeps lifting me