Poetry

I would sit with you as the sun melted in its own heat

I belong to these fragments of a martyr and his cause

We stumble through the future some of us with magic In our fingertips

it occurs to me in hesitation that the circle spins forever

Choosing from among these pretty cages I find strength because you are still so free

You’ve hidden your freedom beneath your desire

If you are lost then follow choice through the forest of change

If I stand in your favor it’s a gift I’ll open later