(no subject)
Apr. 3rd, 2003 07:28 pmMy compassion
tastes like ashes.
It is not a blanket to keep you warm at night.
It is not a chimney, nor a furnace,
not samovar, not even a mug
of steaming chocolate.
Not even a sip.
It is not a banked campfire.
It is not a pair of mittens.
It is not meant for comfort.
My compassion
is a cold stove.
My compassion
is a gravestone.
My compassion is a razor.
I have sharpened it for you.
tastes like ashes.
It is not a blanket to keep you warm at night.
It is not a chimney, nor a furnace,
not samovar, not even a mug
of steaming chocolate.
Not even a sip.
It is not a banked campfire.
It is not a pair of mittens.
It is not meant for comfort.
My compassion
is a cold stove.
My compassion
is a gravestone.
My compassion is a razor.
I have sharpened it for you.