Sometimes,

When life looks in both directions,

And can staple itself

Against Hell’s ceiling

And Heaven’s floor,

We can realize we’ve stepped over stones that float

Atop blood and marrow

That swim in the heads of those ambitious

Enough to follow their own voice.

Oh, love

With either end to see the lady through

To the garden,

To the front of a temple,

Beauty has an image

And it is a broken one.

She does not smile,

Because the mirror has done that

For her.

Place me at the front of the story

To see a world become envisioned.

It is for the reason

That my ambitions have eclipsed my heart

From a love I should have,

From a heart I should savor

With each droplet of its blood

That quivers

Beneath the shielding sun.