as tongues place themselvesin positions to create
awkward silences
that refuse to break
and all the things
that conjure
endeavors in the air
serve a bitter notion
simplicity is rare
complication is question
of reason to pursue
answers that
make no sense
and die untrue
throughout the ripples
of longing for the universe
to measure us by
the cup we thirst
'til time ticks away
and turns us to dust
unto our final hours
into the earth's crust
and stars carry away
our memory in time
to deem all the ways
we'd be immortalized
'cause things like that
are in the nature of humans
unless we are but
creatures unproven
to worthiness
destined to lose throughout
the cost of things
we are without
and a poet's mark is
justified deep in
the thoughts that make
him passionate
same as a thousand
painters who
build like bricks
things to be expressed
beyond any word
for we long to be measured
by the cup we thirst
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