Rather be a beggar than liar
when we come apart in two
so I peacefully, respectfully decline
those well versed letters
I am anchored by your tomb
Waiting for the rooster to crow
And they say, “Look, he is in the wilderness”
Or “Look, he is in the inner rooms,”
I won’t believe it.
But you’ve been tarrying
and they’ve been heralding
I can’t but help but rush
patience was never my forte
Because I am a dying man
Waiting for a vapor thin whisper
a sign


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