Its purpose, we cannot find
When we sit around its table
And dine.
What little we find
Tastes as though
Sand has been ground in--
We chew slowly,
Clsoing our eyes as if
Not seeing makes
Not feeling, Not knowing.
Growing never was easy,
No matter how many proverbs tell us
It's worth it.
Trying to be grateful,
We hold hands
And instead wish everything
Were different.
Feast, Beast--
You will not stay forever.
You may leave a sour aftertaste,
But in your place
We find new ways
To chase grace,
Eyes opened once more.
