Today

7:12 am Masquerade, Optimism

I shall give myself a pat
on the shoulder (after the wells cleared up
again),
for unearthing in me some nobility—
that little pure droplet, like a dew, a baby spring.

Run then, to where you think you can find
your oasis;
fuss I shan’t.
A floating leaf instead I shall be,
while remembering the ripples
begun one drizzly August night—
the very same things which now tell me
dauntingly,
how close I came to danger.

But I choose not venom, instead
with bowl-shaped hands scoop
from the freshest fountains I can find:
for you to quench your mortal thirst
and for me, to understand you and
cleanse myself.

That I did not know
it is something I possess brings
a smile: yet it is there,
flowing freely,
in some of the deepest sepulchers
of my heart.

25 February 2010, 3.17pm

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