Cries Of Joy And Pain

CRIES OF JOY AND PAIN


Seas of viscid blood do
like a crimson blanket
cover two thirds my mind

         and gather for a storm.

If only would the frost
worm its way through my heart,
warm colder jagged corners

         and comfort all my world;

         I could blithe roam and wander
         through a wishing well of dreams--

                             Gathering elements of joy;
                             Pursuing places of peace;
                             Resting in meadows divine,

                             ever a season in time,

where the comforts of home are like blankets secure
warming frosted seasons I have blithely slain,
harsh in crimsons quick capricious ardor
to, always, wish it all away.