ad occidentem

A blur of concrete heat irradiates
The haze of Denver’s dusty morning sky
And though I try my best to meditate,
My pulse keeps quick’ning when I close my eyes…

The gentle creep of dawn that spread its glow
A thousand miles away now warms my skin;
I catch my breath in tatters, sharp and slow,
to think of what will be from what has been.

This memory—collapsed beneath the weight
Of three long, leaden weeks—now pulls me near,
And though my past tells me to hesitate,
I’ve long forgotten any taste of fear.

I’ll seek thy solace ere the day is done:
I’ll follow tender heart toward setting sun.