A left and a wrong

Sometimes I feel abjectly empty and aching
like a dry twig
when some ornate desires pull me into fragments.
But I look away.
And sigh..
this is not my place
and go on unmaking the making of days.

As tsunamis inside plea a release
I lock them up in the glance behind.
I can’t look backward.
Memory is fragile.

Some random callings are still left unanswered.
But I gather speed as I travel across equinox lips.
I flicker an eyelash of a shadow,
but a left and a wrong
don’t make me smile.
So here I am waiting
Bee-wise and shoe-shined
for another afternoon with the wildflowers.

But I must drown sense and carry
this raging fire
To wherever it must go
A calling it says
that needs answering.
Who needs a fire?
I am done burning.