Lips of sun burn me down,
Water falls of mars in them I drown,
Spark of hope ignites the moon,
Craters of the past coming in full bloom,
Density waits as desires recede,
Sensing no pain, my life proceeds,
Climbing on up with a curiousness of a boy,
Seeing time as nothing but a new toy,
Holding on tight to the mighty reins,
As with strike, blood rushes in my veins,
Conceiving my thoughts with a last strike,
The whip that cracks with no end in sight,
Watching all this but no sense comes of it,
Acknowledging all of this as a poet’s rite.
