Like David's Seed, My love

So few things are of worth in this wide-alive heart
where mis-stepped, ill-mapped footings can topple even the most drawn and beautiful
but I know
and I know
and I know
my heart is safe within your walls, within your world, within your touch and your being.
So few things are worth battling the misdemeanors of communication, but love.
Love in its refined ore--splendid reminiscence can sway my most flagrant
and fetal need to flee my pains and my fears and my diving driving soul-cursing doubts
that like rain and wind and pilings
rage against my wants
and plague my happiness with the stain of the adultered adversary.

But love, which in tender ministering breaks apart the twisted tendrils of loneliness
lays me down, back down again to where my eyes can see the horizons of heaven
and for that, my fists can clench against that which my brothers tack against me
and I can stand and plant like david's seed, a stake in your part of heaven and
in your heart, and in your soul, and in your being, and in your forever.
With hungered fists I will grab at the earth and breathe through every last sting
keeping and reliving every joy, forever altered
Fire under rain,
my strength keeps kindled this lightness with no measure of an end,
as it
like my love, goes on
and on
and on.