Frank Prem

Some seem born to higher deeds,
to sweep before them the debris and the clutter of small lives
lived in earnest expectation, despite the wreckage of hopes
that come and go in a cycle of endless repetition,
and a constant search for omens to foretell
the time to follow what we know has already passed this way.

To those of us who watch the signs our stars disclose,
and who pray for a revelation that might take us
on a journey to reach, or to touch, the lighter places
that we still believe are waiting for us,
the charm of those blessed higher beings is a mystery
and a wonder kept for the tossing, sleepless hours
of no-direction in the dark.

We are mostly children somewhat lesser,
who dream the dreams of deeply hidden aspirations
that we cannot speak aloud for fear
of some new tearing of the thread-worn…

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