What might Might be?
The light that guides me,
Strength to use rightly,
Tied in lengths of Eden’s ivy.

Garden grown like primal sin,
Pardons are unknown so the lies begin.
Now the forest is home to what lies within.
Might, unlike beauty, is beneath the skin.

I want my question answered but afraid to ask it.
Hesitation is a lesson that I seem to be trapped with.
Little lack of relation from me to men in the casket,
I might be crushed by the world, doesn’t mean that I’m Atlas.

Confounded as my consciousness rises like Babel’s tower,
But just for a single blessed second I know that love was true power.