The Gift of Universe Song
Give no love to the poet.
This frail,
flaming human,
is not the gift of
universe song,
sent to rain life down on
all who thirst.
Nor the giver,
that he might interpret.
Flawed,
the object of the
world’s affection,
nothing more than a
splintered leaking bucket in
the rain-eternal.
Well-placed in
time and space
to hold for a moment,
that which all
who thirst,
find.
© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday
