What a world
Is this
Haystack ransacked
By flames
Of misguided
Morality - you did it, not I.

It's true; you are true, that we
Know how fair
As well as
Tough the soil is
Hurdling underneath our feet.

I stopped seeing ghosts
When I realized
Their pain was endless and
Mine was finite; jealousy,
Once again,
Distancing me from the ones
I could have learned from most.

It felt good
To
Believe
In the majesty
Of the muse again.

All it took
Were some rules,

Tequila,

And

Ursula K. Le Guin,