A NIGHT IN THE WATER TEMPLE
Who's unearthly pen of purpose
spiked the medicinal lingo of
my life's mission statement with
the sweet calligraphy of a
redeemer's destiny
On what grounds of anticlimactic
credentials was I plucked from
the frozen context of forest green ignorance
and assigned to this twitchy box of a bath house
and its drowned doors spiteful currents
self-appointed damsels and
sea dweller duds
This I ponder as a hero
pampers his beleaguered feet
beneath the towel of an opportune torch
and inquires of his whimsical pet pearl
why an instrument of heaven's orchestra
could not compose a path to a shoehorn
With everyday gadgets of the gods
he is coming for my heart
and I will beat him with it
till the destiny of a redeemer wraps
its existence around the black dimensions
of my inferiority and makes
for the morning light
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