And let us compare Mythologies

Wuji Seshat

30

When on Christmas day I awoke
For wife and house I was met
With the cavalry of all the years
The bending flowers

And silver stains
And all that my life
Was ever or could ever become
Like an algorithm

Lost among the innocents
I decided then, to lick
My velvet wounds
And kiss my burning oils goodbye

And make with flour
The turning great treats
That in summersaults of chesnut
I ever could or would have desired

When on Christmas day I awoke
To a sleeping house
Tired from a silent night of wine
And gentle laughter

I could say that I loved
The distant saints, and happy dreams
Of all the early road’s sweet toil
My life had become a holy hill
Where all my grace and poems lay.

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