His eloquent winds entice me to roam
with lust for return to a place called home
these wounds still fresh from the intimate fire
pilgrim eyes search for comfort but tire

an amnesiac dining on his own flesh and blood
at the table of identity the gate of Moshe
faint memories in closets organized by years
cloths of perception, conception, and fear

this worn to cover a naked vision
of opposites performing intricate incisions
implicate decisions defying free will
when we breath with the empty, the silent, the still