Father, have you lifted,
Away from the pain I now share,
With a world so very bare?
It is because I have done as you asked,
And cared for another among a division
Of untimely selfishness.
Is it wrong to despise someone,
Who loves only themselves?
This world has no promise of love.
And yet, I make what I can
From the smooth ashes that cake my ankles,
And the fires, I make for warmth, as bodies burn.
Ashes that fell, and ashes you breathed,
As towers fell and towers leave.
They were once tall, and now, they are up to me.
I am in love,
With a dashing extravagance,
Because I have no more guidance.
There is only the music, of remembrance,
That makes me breath a fragrance,
One that is soft and represents a cushion.
One that is a cushion and shows the skin,
Of those in need.
Their blood raises upwards, and I see.
I see a world without the shame,
Of people who ignore shame,
Of people intolerant of shame.
I see a world unlike you or me,
I see, and only see, the madness of those without a clue,
To be able to differ the old from the new.
There is so much beauty left forgotten,
So much truth unprotected by the dome of love.
That when I see you, I begin to see me.
I see the fires and the waves on the shoreline,
And I don’t see myself as needing,
Other than the occasional sentiment of gratitude,
Like you, as humble, in the efforts towards safety.