How many dreams have perished
underneath those soul-slowing words?
“I just want to be needed . . . ”
from what has been given freely
to smiling bodies who are absconded
and never to return, to swoop down
as angels of a better nature?
Nothing so buoyant comes on command.
“Oh, I know.” Your eyes will convey
the quiet terror every sleepless night
as you watch the sky bear down upon you
without regard for eons . . .
Yes, the darkness is thick; the stars are
still a blank slate. The sun will rise like a cry
for restoration: “I need to be needed . . . ”
Well, be ready when love comes out from
the pure blue; It doesn’t linger.
Every selfish predilection of yours will cry foul:
“This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be . . . ”
And then you’re gone, dispersed in an instant,
content to be lighter than air.
Copyright 2014 by Michael Marsters.
All rights reserved.