Threadbare Blanket

           ….from June 2013….

This ancient, dark, threadbare blanket

This collection of lies, woven together

Has been lifted

From the surface of my heart

…………………….

Below, pumping red flesh

Virgin to the light from without

Virgin to the light from within

Slick and moist from the lack of atmosphere.

…………………….

Now, clean fresh air, nearly an assault on this heart

And the light? Well, it blinds

My eyes, unaccustomed to this vibrance

My heart, exposed.

…………………….

So much, it is

A shimmering glistening new heart

In a 60 year old man

What am I to do with so much light?

…………………….

Trembling, light, love, truth

Whitman knew there are no lies

And now, I must learn to allow

The flow of life, in its most perfect path and form.

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