turning and spinning
towards the center and back
esteem hits below the belt
love only takes one more

the inevitability of karmic debt
meets the prayers of the saints
halfway to providence and back
I should have learned it then

the silence I long sought inside
now returned an echo of dense
that old son of a bitch is dead
chattering on from his grave

chance took my chance away
with misery born of longing
solitude’s underbelly exposed
while guilt slow nurtures the hounds