Tuesday, July 8, 2008


What is this fire in me that rises,
compels me to climb
like a rebel against gravity?

…and that incessant down draft
pressing me back to earth
like a rebel against ascension?

Sweet angel,
I am crushed by a holy contradiction
pinching me between the palms of paradox.

Perhaps I am meant to squirt through some seam
yet unseen. Do I have the eye to see that crevice?
Give me vision, and courage.

I admit the unorthodox,
I release the assumed alternatives
and surrender to the option
of having neither to climb nor crash.

I am cared for in hell
or, choose to believe I am.

end/Michael 7/8/2008

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