Crackling change, enflamed in ever newly fashion
leaves only ash to dry away the tears
and change splitting still unfolds
a breath of whispered, wasted dreams
consumed within their passion
ideas used and found useless,
thrown down, discarded, vapid,
the immolation of a seasonal sacrifice
but hope lies dormant and does not die
hope never dies, but lies
ever ready to be quickened,
resurrected by the slightest provocation
like a poet blind, or a deaf musician,
an artist handicapped by circumstance,
this crippled phoenix arises upon the lightest of whims
morphing fantasies in a dance
around desire’s old resurgent themes
as long as the heart has beats,
it cannot retreat, no it cannot retreat
as long as the heart has beats….
2
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