Every broken man is in search of a new spirit
Whether or not he recognizes it or not, he seeks
A purified river to wash away his sins
His company is no one but shadows
Reflections of the past and prior wrongdoings
The long face of the bright, full moon
Looks down upon him in honest affinity
With silent recognition, he sees time
Etched upon its pockmarks and scars
From a storm-brinking, sullen beach, he sees
Across the far reaches of the dark sea
A near-distant future, his to hope and to own
But even the sanctity of his own forgiveness
Which alone holds his true resurrection
Cannot dispel the ghosts in his now lightless soul
The night that fires aflame his scorched earth
M.M.
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