by: W. A. Marshall

as the acorn holds
a matchless scheme
for an unspoiled oak
my soul has a unique
plan for me -
from a silent space  
my being thrived
inversely the seed
was not voguish
it yearned for nothing
but sunlit sap and water
no conditioning or
distressed peers
absorbing fermented
tonics to burn wizards
it merely wanted
to be -
we appear scrambled
and blind to our
internal essence
about what we are
so we refuse
to stay inert
like a bomb
worried records
tell me so -
genomic bands that
once swirled in darkness
where essence surfaced
in search of poise
down in there
I closed my eyes  
and Aquinas’ played
amid authority to act  
in smoky darkness -  
It is I that shines a light  
so my soul can sit
calmly beside me.