Scorched Seaweed
The green shadows forget his names
All those he used
In different lifetimes
Now a grizzled old man
With two pools of alertness
An ancient foot soldier
There is nothing outside of him
Nowhere can he turn for learning
He has held the absolute too long
Tired arms that know no forgiveness
He was a god with an impossible task
To set down lines that refused his touch
Before he entered the wilderness
The empty wasteland of nothing
How the winds howl with contempt in his mind
Especially when he lets his thoughts wander
Then he remembers
How the sound of forgiveness feels
Against the hard edge of steel
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