Heaven Forbid
Somewhere up there,
somebody's supposed to have
all the answers.
Above even the driest desert,
the most luscious rain forest.
After the harshest storm.
Reflected in the deepest waters.
We were made in that image, you know --
the kind of thing that looks like you,
moves like you,
moves in you,
but isn't you,
no matter how hard you try.
The kind of thing
that blazes a trail in booby traps.
That dangles a carrot
over a coalmine.
The lesson is in the design.
It can't be the top of the world
if there isn't anything beneath it.
We can't expect to feel
anything more than low
from a sky that always happily answers
in blues.
No comments:
Post a Comment