a lament

I think I am tired. I think that is why I have been unable to write all week. My files are full of blogposts not published. My heart is bleeding broken stories. So today, for you, an old poem, and my mute blessings.


Lament

all living is for profit
(sciences claim)

but I'd spend
every wristbone,
every socket,
every daybreak,
the whole wealth
of evolution,

to touch you again.