(about 1993)
Faith is all
that sustains this secret-keeper
of my soul
labored with the liquid-of-life,
full there with, alas
remaining empty.
Gone with the true-love time told of it.
Oh where the master of memories?
Where the sire of such secrets?
Oh where the answers to the where-why's?
Alone, abandoned, adorned . . .
by the faith alone of the morning sun,
another step beyond life's shadows
into the light.
