Desert worn weaves platted through,
\nSilk soft with cactus pricks,
\nCovering tapestry and promises to fly
\nIn places disintegrate at touch
\nIn others bare fist galvanized rough
\nSuch a foreigner to this landscape,
\nNot sure what ground will meet my step,
\nMonths of cloud covered silence gave me a gift,
\nDeep inside I feel this call louder than ever,
\nLike a madman being the only one who can hear,
\nIgnoring the pleas of all those close
\nKnowing an oasis blooms beyond where they can see
\nDowsing rods cross over that open wound
\nCards blow fantasy across me
\nEven precious metals meant for gems is but a rock
\nSuch a rock there is, but inside a greater splendor.<\/p>\n
Am I the only one who reads all those word maps?
\nReshaping verbal shards into a whole,
\nProjecting puzzles in aerial signs,
\nAm I but one of a team pondering every clue?
\nSeeking to find a way towards an inner grail beyond,
\nThe more I tread the more I am alone.
\nWho else examines small markings
\nKnowing that this creature does everything deliberately,
\nWhy leave marks no one else will ever grasp
\nOr care to grasp
\nAnd even if they grasped would be unmoved.
\nIt waits for one who is meant to see
\nEach test just meant to show they truly are.<\/p>\n
They all drank and thrust at the river in the sandy valley
\nStill nothing compared to where I went
\nBut still they come and drink and do not see,
\nThey drift and pass and still I remain,
\nEveryone around thinking me quite deranged,
\nThey don’t see what I do, and I cannot even explain.
\nSuch a wonder as only luck in a whole life can bring.
\nWaiting for failed goldpanners,
\nto retreat after a month of mere stones.
\nKnowing not what they truly seek,
\nthey sift and sift then move to other pastures
\nI drank at every source I could,
\nI can only think of that one sweet taste
\nThe only place I want to bath
\nEven if it be the hardest to reach.
\nUnlike every other,
\nthe taste only grows stronger from yearning.
\nNothing sadder than drinking another,
\nChidded by bitterness and pretending it was the same.<\/p>\n
I lay out right beside that creek
\nFirst the beetles came and stung at night
\nThen the snake intoxicate my blood,
\nLeads me to the precipice
\nYet as the fool I did not fall
\nHeld up by forces I dare not admit
\nThen the wild sides snarl and gnash
\nThe more the forces thrown to push me away
\nThe more they betray how precious they guard
\nAnother day and more suitors roll through
\nNow I learned to not even see them,
\nThey take what little they can actually see,
\nNone touch the part this star struck location offers
\nAlone knowing that the whole valley quivers
\nIn time with my breath my thoughts and my release.
\nKnowing now having stared so long
\nThat it thinks of me as much as I of it
\nNo matter where I am since I first stepped foot
\nI am present basking in its wonder.<\/p>\n
One day I will open my veins
\nLaying back in that gentle stream
\nLet it seep out my life\u2019s potency
\nEmbracing its fluids with mine forever
\nThen there will be no distinction
\nWe will flow and settle together
\nOnly there can my worn body be washed out
\nTransformed and pulled under.
\nThen will it know every word was real.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Desert worn weaves platted through, Silk soft with cactus pricks, Covering tapestry and promises to fly In places disintegrate at touch In others bare fist galvanized rough Such a foreigner to this landscape, Not sure what ground will meet my step, Months of cloud covered…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1431,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[13],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-60379","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-miscellaneous"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/60379","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1431"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=60379"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/60379\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":60380,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/60379\/revisions\/60380"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=60379"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=60379"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=60379"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}