Dying to Live

Weary weary, silent night, tomorrrow too long but quickly comes, hunt and gather, wait, grief for the unseen, the left behind, rolling against wakes, a sea that employs me, man and nature - creations in kind, but both disowning a soul. Lament, spirit pressed, what is will without hope, hope without purpose separated from my own humanity, unknown, unknown.Call my name, let me hear it's meaning, call it in assault, derision, or death, but speak.A dwelling to come, but never home, ground not higher but firm, a place to return as dust, buried without judgment, returning uncalled, joy bypassed.I breathe, divineness courses through this corpse, I lie not down, with power to bless, I take it up, man, body, soul, mind, strength, passion, aching, mourning meets choice.I LIVEKip Powell