our indignation
we spend our days in charmed aspiration;
while the sky above, burns feverant and broken;
reaching for things while never certain;
prisoners of passion and true invention;
somehow we achieve moments of elavation;
fleeting bursts of truth and completion;
precarious, pure, clear scented revalation;
risen to the place of soaring satisfaction;
unable to keep, this elated meeting;
of heart and mind, life and meaning;
we tumble back and loose the feeling;
left with the ghost of really living;