Notes to Hands I cannot See

I am a beggar for experience
That drop like stars from some beyond
The dropped flakes of virtual minds
We meet more people, every year

I am a beggar for the Color Green
Who tells me secrets of dying syllables
The poetry of admitting wombs
That are not fertile, nobody is perfect

I am a beggar for life’s true worth
To find the deep meaning, behind the chatter
To eclipse the tremors of expectation
And love the gravity of life’s uncertainty

I am a beggar for higher lands
A divine Ferret whom I cannot find
A spiritual paradise of some extremity of mercy
A novel woman who welcomes me home

I am a beggar, because of what I perceive I lack
Toyed in the final inches from love
This is my letter to the world
Of what I risked to gain savory everything.