We dance an uneven step through the seasons of our lives
And tiring or hurting we seek to rest and heal.
We beg a flat place to lie down
Or at least a branch on which to light
from which to hang
We quiet the storm with shrouds of gauze
And when our battle-weary spirits void our sleep
We seek surcease through the dulling of distractions
Anaesthetizing writhing thoughts
and turning off the senses
And in that peaceful web we lie
an easy prey for sullen silent death.
We need instead to aesthetize each other
wake each other out of the sodden, depressed stupor
the turgid smothering tar pit.
Sting my nose with spice and ice
my tongue with sweet vinegar
Pierce my ears with parallel open fifths
Dazzle my eyes with naked glowing buns
Shock my skin with waves of flame and frost
Resuscitate my wonder and lift my living
beyond this warm mud!