Phoenix
It's for me my talents be,
Not for skies or salty breeze,
Not for you to get you through,
But for my sighs, if you please.
It's not cries that make you wise,
Nor ashes that make you rise,
Nor the burn that makes you spurn,
But the clashes and the lies.
It's the time that's so sublime;
In my head I leave behind,
For the skills that seem to kill,
The racket that's in my mind.
In my placket I stack it,
Rest askew as I crack it,
The token is left broken,
Rise anew, I attack it.
There for me my talents be,
In that hole for only me,
Tossed about the tile and grout,
On the shoals of distant seas.
In that bowl, I bathe my soul,
Shed my skin that once was stole,
Breathe a sigh and wipe my eye,
Rise again to pay the toll.
Invino Veritas
11.3.14
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