The Pearl and Other Poems

B.R. Mullikin

Untitled

To dine with gods
and sing with saints;
to be a king
and feign to paint:
the colors bright
but withered dull;
the mind to feint
and the soul to mull
about a promise
that spoke with time:
about a man
who hates to deign–
that piece of time,
that piece of time.

Where we do sit
and feel the night;
where we do sing
and hope to fight:
the fight of life
and death beyond;
the death of light
and the ongoing song;
where we do sing
and sing very well:
with hearts nearly felled—
and sing well,
and sing well.

And singing again
we chorus the words;
and feeling the notes
we sing absurd:
hoping to win
but willing to lie;
hoping to sing
and fighting to die.
Where our song is met
with our idle breath:
where we have death—
with idle breath,
with idle breath.