pulled

we must always veer
from extremes
lest our fears
became reality.

one vision may evoke
that path marked off,
fear of choking
killing possibility.

I have found
leaving all open
provides ample ground,
while footing of stone
keep us from slipping under deserts of direction,
from quipping into sink hole
left unknown.

well kown, well grown are we!
who come so far just to find
ambiguity.

more so than me,
Morse code conducts conversations caught
click by click
in hesitant heresy.

to make voice less than human; to give but beepping rhyme,

but, oh, how I am guilty
of taking the reality out of rational.

my own compromise disguises my fears;
my fears disguising my own compromise

and Job telling, "God, what gives"
And Biliad blaming me,
"You see! what unrighteousness have ye?"

but though pits fall,
they grow again.
once spit out from juicy flesh,
must die to bring forth more.

where is the line of dying and death?
what constitutes difference of noun and verb,
like ser and estar we are told;
gringos just learning the difference between state and fact:

if dying is to be made darker,
then death is to remain dark.
but even pain fades,
till every tear is wiped away.