The fruit has ripened.
But it hangs high on the tree.
It will ripen further and die,
Slowly.
The sun will hit it hard.
The moon will not help at all.
The best thing for it to do is
Fall.
Birds may help it perhaps,
Maybe a strong breeze,
A god may help, if it says
Please.
Knowing providence though,
It’s more likely to hang and rot,
It’s one of those things that love just
Forgot.
It does look tasty and juicy,
But it’s so very, very high,
I might as well give up before I
Try.
Life tells me to run now, run fast:
Make each moment count, each smile last!
The night haunts me, the house cries
The shadows gnaw and all light dies.
A sliver escapes and flashes like a star
But that sliver is small and it’s so far.
I stand among roses and thorns
And even use my heart’s evil horns.
I stretch my hand right out, I ache
To acquire it before these horns break
The heart already bleeds and the dark closes
While an invisible worm rapes my roses.
A black, fathomful river twists my way
Rolling, eating each hope of fading day
Sweat pores down my temples, I stretch
My hand to that sliver of light…
Nausea builds, breath stops, I wretch
And my body becomes a miserable sight.
I hear the river; the horns break;
I fall into my roses; the thorns cut
Into my flesh and I cry, “For my sake,
God, for my sake!” But
All I hear in response is the closing river;
He becomes the taker I become the giver;
I stand, wounded, and gaze at that star;
Can hear the water rushing, not very far,
And wait for it carry me to a different land,
Or for that star to fall,
Into my outstretched hand.
Hearts Still Care 