That Nerve

Close and open.

That throbbing thread

That rules my head

That makes me mad

And then I’m sad,

|

Through which I must

Embrace that lust

And life distrust

Devouring crust,

|

Its dancing trains

When all is vain

That central stain

Condition’s name,

|

Coherent oft

My head is not

I stumble words

Dry camel’s thorns,

|

But then it comes

Gold angel’s dust,

Its nascent flow

Revives the straw,

|

And then again

The sun kissed rain

Bright blueish sky

Fresh tears inside,

|

Abundant new

Young morning dew,

I’m touched at core

And dry no more.

~