The failure of love was yours
not mine. You chose a thousand idolotries
over the child. You chose an ego
applause and a stage for a fraud
you chose to say not to do
what you couldn't try
The failure of love was yours
not mine. I watched from a distance
and bidded tongue and time
as you were lost in your own image
believed every gossipping lie
The failure of fruit was yours
not mine. You invested in useries, heresies
and immitations of reality
to give yourself an illusional security
and a silly legacy of basement curtains
and google-eyed geriatrics in distress
for whom you couldn't care less.
What is your life worth now
and how worthy is this mockery of Love and Life?