How many heartfelt vows
have crossed my lips now,
broken
by wrongs I allow
and the petty rows
spoken
with swords forged from plows,
seeking sacred cow’s
tokens
in the dark days since
the first subtle hints
were seen
of truth, that glints
beneath a thin chintz
(the means
of experience)
and gives evidence
in dreams?
30 MAR 2004
