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The Unclaimed Yearling

Updated on March 18, 2010

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. 


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    • thevoice profile image

      thevoice 8 years ago from carthage ill

      makes you want to cry