Saturday, May 23, 2009

Blessed Burden

These last few months have seen quite a few birthday poems. This makes three, so far, and there will most likely be more to come. As much as I enjoy shopping for gifts, I take even greater joy in crafting them. I prefer made gifts, myself, and can only hope that others appreciate them as much as I do. A made gift is a gift for one, and one alone. No purchased gift, however interesting and unique, can mirror that. How can the act of searching ever compare to the act of creating? This is for Tom.


Blessed Burden

With a wandering wind and a transient stride
to travel the concrete crack,
and a hard-shell guitar case, a promise, and pride,
swung loose on your low-bent back,
you will follow the destiny written inside -
a seed of the unseen track -

with words never spoken and notes never played
and love of the solitude sent,
such a singular treasure before you, arrayed,
that life be not lost unspent,
as a million others have mindlessly strayed
so far from the way they went.

This burden is yours, and its blessed attack
will rupture and heal the rent.

5 comments:

Cora Malfoy said...

You said you would wriet something for us hillsboro people...

For your information...Tom doesn't live i hillsboro...

But I liked it, none the less....

Cora Malfoy said...

sorry about the spelling...haha

Cartesian Quies said...

Wait your turn, Cora. It'll come...

Anonymous said...

love it! Tom's thighs.

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