By Arcassin Burnham

Wake up from the dead like
The crow on a Sunday morning
Piercing it's eyes on Monday's newspaper,
Making sure the world sees a different path,
Wouldn't feel like this if I had a laugh,
Piecing together what I can to find a day
Without pain,
You have a better way of seeing things,
But we're not the same,
I try the highs and lows for myself,
But nothing commences,
No change,
No sign of self worth,
Like I was made in a test tube frozen
In a block of ice,
I'm nothing more than a discovery in my own image,
For that I shouldn't long to exist,
I should clear,
I should erase,
I should fade.

So I call her girl
She has many chores
To keep her world
In the right order
She isn't my favorite
Creature
Even though
She is one of the few
I truly know
I think one day
She'll disappear
To where she'll go
I couldn't say

I've currency that no other man can ever claim , incalculable wealth that billionaires will never acquire , coinage deposited over many years into the vault of my very existence , a penny for every peaceful thought , a blue diamond for each epiphany ..I've the life sustaining love of my Mary Ellen , my immediate soulmate with compassionate , limitless concurrence . I've the call of Mourning Dove , of colored leaves , indigo Dawns and frosty mornings ..
The cackle of Crows , call of turkeys and the noonday Sun high above ..
The boundless charge of natures electricity seeking each cell of my physical being , boundless fields of brilliant grass and herb , every wildflower , bramble and acorn a loving testament .. I've the cool Fall grass beneath my feet , the confluence of the Summer Sun adorning every beautiful tree .The sound of thunder , of wind and rain . The elegant colors of Cardinal , Robin , Sparrow and Wren . A cool zephyr that whispers into a captive ear , my soul blissfully dwelling in safe harbor the remainder of my years ..