The Unclaimed Yearling
Speak to me oh! sad weakling
tell me of your incantation.
I put you there, I see you there
pray tell me, why you cry.
Allow yourself the room
to move about the virgin soul.
To speak and bless my heart
with your sweet musings.
For it is the heart of hearts
that posse’s power unrestrained.
Pray tell me, your story
so that I may revel.
In your glory and sadness
of you always for tomorrow.
Recant to me your incantation
in hopes of nevermore beginnings.
You are the babe of neither one
who was and is of today.
Born in neither time
as if a stranded soul.
For if you could see the world
this neither time would be.
To see the others like yourself
without form not making.
How silent it is then
a human-ness not counted.
Hearts of flesh and bone of marrow
blood without sanguininity.
Amis you are in neither world
not spoken for yet wanting.
Culprit fathers, mothers all
how could they be unknown?
The beating, beating of the life
unborn as of today.
And each of they and them alone
reveal the truth beguiled.
For we all hold dear the keys
of love’s sad self, my child.
