Cripple

sweet wind of eternitySpiritlilywhite scent; I have longed to slipbeyond the shores of postmodernitywithin your silver hallsto lay me on the naked groundand weep. until wept you sweepme upon falcons’ pinionsgilded wings of morning.

but since I cannot come to you,break, blow, burnthis world’s walls;whirlwind, fallupon this poor houseshake, furnish, and renew;you come find me.