It isn’t easy to live without reproach,
Considering all it’s done for me,
Leaving me on the other side of the
Garden wall, still in the dirt, weak from
Naming all the weeds, blind to flowers.
I suppose when it is gone, I will
Run after it again, missing the lesson,
The deafening noise, vanishing into invisibility,
Thinking the gold is buried far, far
Away, in the distance, under the
Rainbowed arch, believing
Maybe that is enough.