Wise Enough To Know That I’m Not Wise Enough
In the act of eyes, I’ve judged with momentum,
A sweeping weakness of mine
That leaves an innocent soul to wander the desert of desire,
Digging up sands of sparkles that disintegrate with the push of wind.
To learn that the only thing that is worse than fear is hunger,
Love is a danger, and everyone’s a victim,
Love is a blessing, and some are gifted with its grace.
How I swear, and how I close my eyes,
To watch the sun rise, in pallets of orange, red, and tan,
And to watch the fireball drop,
Into oceans, behind mountains, under sheets of glowing ice.
Even as wise as I think I am, I’m astounded by how little I understand.
Springing from a coil of disbelief, to raise my hopes like waves on a full moon,
Is a rare cosmic occurrence.
History of its past resembles the beheaded chicken on the block,
The full moon elicits blood from the savage.
And a hunger for prey that seems so small in the act of your eyes,
That your judgements could harm a fly.