spare me
the telling
of where you might be
when the last
of the last days
is come

sew not confusion
o’er shadows reset
or living made less –
in pursuit
of the one

strained consequences
as someone sleeps in –
wrapped
in another man’s vow

bring me to worship
where questions
still burn –
awaiting of truth
to remember us now

breath to these embers
a moment too late
as words seldom used
stain the floor

death or delusion
I’d choose – rightly so
the turning of words
to the asking
for more

spare me the telling
of where you are now
forgotten
the reasons to go

sit me the night
at the doorway to next –
awash in the wonder
of tellings untold
. . .