Hope

Waiting in a field
Is a man with shovel held,
Thinking of his life
And all the failures haunting.
He lowers his eyes,
His hand begins to tremble
As he strikes the earth,
Lifts another shovel-load
Weighted by his past.
There, digging ever deeper
Searching for solace
In barren dirt of disgrace.
There, digging his pit,
Burrowing into comfort
Of his own despair.
He gazes up from the hole
Fashioned as a grave
And spake to the looming clouds,
“Is this really fate?
I swear, I cannot deny
I’ll fuck up this life
Chasing dragons for a fix,
I’ll fuck up this life
And devour their hearts raw,
I’ll fuck up this life
Making bonsai with desire,
I’ll fuck up this life
Betraying every atom
Keeping me alive…”

Above, a veil of nimbus
Opens wide with him
And weeps into the pit.
His companion hangs,
But lowers down a gentle breeze;
Its’ cold, tender touch
Tries in vain to soothe a heart
Of the sorrows wrought,
But drowns all of his hope
As pit becomes pond
And stagnant waters conquer
The quarry at hand.
His consciousness starts to fade
Down beneath the waves,
Drifting to nihilism
And into the arms
Of defeatism’s embrace.
There, to ever sink
And listen to the echo
Poisoning his mind,
“I swear, I cannot deny
I’ll fuck up this life
Drinking poison for pleasure,
I’ll fuck up this life
Eat the lotus and forget,
I’ll fuck up this life
Dance merrily with vultures,
I’ll fuck up this life
Betraying every atom
Keeping me alive…”

But, he wakes beneath the waves;
Sees the fractured sun
Shining down through the surface,
Calling to the tears
To take the form of specters
And lift to the clouds,
There to soar and fall again,
But to water hope
That has long fallen silent,
Though it whispers still;
“I swear, I cannot deny
I will save this life
On a great blue heron’s wing,
I will save this life
Lifting from the dried out pond,
I will save this life
Let no vultures rape my flesh,
I will save this life
Tending soil for her heart
In gardens of hope.
I know I can save this life,
I know I can save this life.”