Deep pools of
sacred possessions
Un-cautioned
cascades of revelation
Chasing braved
bounties in love’s tellings
And a
bright-made woven holder
For all my
heart’s own wrested rovings
Daft pieces of
fast ravings
Un-careful
shavings of sharp arrows
Colliding particles in plenty’s pouring
And a
soft-filled safety folder
For all my
heart’s own suffered bleedings
Dusted
scribblings of dashed truth
Un-captured
portions of chaliced lives
Coiling burned
embers in my seven sides
And a
silver-made chaste casket
For all my
heart’s own secret sorrows
*
Un-counted the
silver of silent stars
Standing without
end or known number
Like my ribs
All broken in
love’s reachings
Like my bruised heel and wounded head
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