I would love to be strong and write of my spiritual core
and say it doesn’t matter anymore, that I am fine,
swimming back to shore.

But that was the poem I wrote four long hours ago.
My soul screams for you to know, and so I write line by line,
swinging high to low.

I scratch my head, try not to think of darkness closing in.
I can remember only where I’ve been; this is a sign
to stop and begin.

These words mean nothing to you, almost everything to me.
Confusion spreads and causes me to be a wayward vine
scrambling to the tree.

You will read my words, slightly amused and wondering who
has got me turned inside out, crazy blue, sudden landmine,
going loopy loo.

Let’s avoid the mystery and deal in invitation.
Come boldly; with every expectation, come close to shine
kind ministration.

Embrace my love, my fear, my need. Find mercy to love long
as night’s shadow on the dark sea. Belong to the red wine,
going, going, gong.