Knife in The Road

First and foremost,
this musing is like scratching the surface off of burn toast,
beneath is verbose- expressions of self until I turn ghost/

Become the spirit in other words, the best is yet come,
a path is unravelling before my feet and my vision is like the sun/

Viewed without protective measures, patience awaits a focus,
who's clarity grants nourishment like Egyptian crops do swarming locusts/

So the fork becomes a knife in the road directing quotients,
the sum total of each step makes a merger of drops and oceans/

It's murder like flocks of crows, of the person with a proverbial stock in woes, allowing unity of all that's known to bring light into my chromosomes/

And not just I, we all share that common thread,
which extends throughout our spine, tethering to living above the head/

That's beyond the mind, living what's all been said,
when we're born a second time, meaning falls from within the dead.

©Krishna Volk 2010