Some new poetry, to prove i'm still alive.

[ldamoff]

For the dispossessed within us
(Variation on a theme by RWB)

The silence speaks, repeating:
"Not yours, not yours, not yours"
And adrift in a seeming endless winter
Remembering the unexpected spring
I hear each memory repeating:
"Not yours, the buds that blossom
Or the birds that sing sweet rhapsody.
The bread you eat is never yours,
Not yours, the life and strength it brings."

And here, in seeming endless winter
The evening speaks, again, repeating:
"Not yours the days or endless hours
Not yours the moments of sudden
Unexpected flowers in unexpected spring.
Not yours, not yours, not yours."

And if not mine, what freedom in breathing
For i cannot collect or measure
The unpossessable Breath of Being.

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love,
luke