A Bargain Refused

They are a marvel:
they twirl
they sparkle
these fine days of my new life.

The circle turns
and I am healed
of all my hurts and wounds,
for you breathe

in my ear and show me
sights I've never seen,
bear me far along your trail
and bid me hear

all your tales
of time and travel
cogs and spin:
machinery is hidden

in all things
we break open
to find out what they are
but our tools are crude

and we are unrefined -
a wayward brood
defiling all our living
wood with axes hewn, ill-used.

Soon, soon, the turn -
it comes and we will
know what we've become:
an evil smell in our own world.

All heaven reels
at what we choose to do
and love to loose
and things things things
an endless ruse.

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