It is a long way coming to this place. Years
are spent trying to match a word with desires,
then beholding the great desire behind them all.

One thing to another, that's what they say in analysis.
Can you feel it, the affair of the world surging
behind your back, metaphors glued to your hair

like tar, similes sticking to your honey finger?
It is a hard way for many, struggling out of their
parents' dream, saying what they know

in their own language of stones or candles.
What is love, but one turning away while the other
holds on? This is why some are ground sharp,

while others stay, biting their tongue.
We need time to tell of going out and coming back.
Visions run ahead, while words limp behind.

When we get there, the tomb is empty.
The ceremony of hearts falls away like a veil.
Spell this victory if you know how.