Everything is contained in your desire
of vary even heroes kneel
things I see in blisters and wrinkles
those with smooth skin, rest among first.
heavy is a sword, feather and child
when to raise all this you have but a day
with tears of fear and tremble in chest
a hero emerges and burned skin sheds.
In pristine, whiteness, illuminated cage
a boneless mollusk has got no hand
to clean filthy thoughts, swipe dust from tools,
give flow to moves.
But what if you find out that you have never been flogged,
and are not worthy of new clothes,
that winds of change avoid you,
that you are tiny, nothing.
There in a corner of an America,
safe but green, numb while with large eyes you perceive.