I'm done playing the blame game in crises that are imagined.
They say time is a healer. Well I'll tell you: it's a teacher.
You can't tick the clock of your years off your to-do list,
And you won't find your dreams on waking in the darkness.
I'm through finding fault in the fascination of deep desires.
I cannot watch the tide reveal rocks nor fight our beaches.
We can't dance to a tune that's lost in our vacuum.
There's no loss to the hungry when there's no food to lose.
I'm finished with starting strategies that others will unravel.
We fashion victims of circumstance as we cook all the books.
Counting on our ignorance to line a nest of vipers, writhing
In ecstacy we draw every black cloud a palm-crossed silver lining.
