Crossroads (Infinite Tools Of The Trade) Poem by Steven Drake

Burning bushes where wonder
Might suggest fledglings falling
Out of the sky's dire requests.
Born the simple in reform of
What next to come worthwhile?
Fools. Folly. Marketing miracles
For dying linens. Lentils. Food
For sacred breath in wings saved.

Weigh upon the heart. Kicked
In the head. Another wake up
Call out of the wilderness.
Spoon fed. False deliverance.
Goose laying golden eggs.
Apocryphal. Standing off the edge
Of eternity. For how the earth
Spins out of control. Axes.

No letter of the law in
Secret follies of the underground.
Barrack, bush way, bohemian.
Breadth of fire light's recall.
Halls of illegitimate, infamous,
Stretcher barriers fighting wars
Of attrition. Waiting upon rivers
Of pernicious evidence seen.

Bull dozers in width to wipe
These errors clean. Water wells.
Wishing in hope. Words in terror
Of loses to glean. Impertinent.
Sacrifices. Ashes in dirt's birth
In wombs of winding intrigue.
Slipshod practices. Adhered to
Requests in fallow foreign lands.

Scope. Crossroads. Infinite tools
Of the trade. Defenses.
Far gone thoughts, fortuitously.
Searching misplaced identity.
Protagonist lost. Stories in
Fearful categories. Waiting.
Temptations. Addictions. Mindful.
No one's honest prediction's praised.