As plain as the nose on his face
he runs from the truth—ignoring red flags,
he climbs every mountain, sails the Seven Seas,
and searches for a way to sustain the light of the world,
subdued by bloodshot eyes.
He meditates like a monk, prays like a priest,
rants and raves to no avail—even tries dancing
like a Whirling Dervish, but ends up weeping
in a puddle of tears listening to his tinnitus ringing church bells.
He cannot forgive the Divine Mother for creating human beings—
the only creatures born knowing they will die.
But when someone you love is about to pass, they always turn into a poem.