...And Jacob Wrestled

The hills are high and hard to see

The plain that moves towards me,

is stuck with splintered grass that's gray:

A lay of land, a stretch of space

Here live my thoughts, in this dull place

And here I sit to find my way

My legs are crossed, My face is clay

My fingers open and they close

on that gray grass that outward flows

over hills and over plains

where it grows and where it wanes.

The castle in my mind is high

full of foes—all I deny.

I am happy with my smile

an ear-to-ear that I can give

to those who impress me

those who caress me

It keeps me busy, it keeps me unfree--

It sedates me from reality.

Two bright eyes in a pretty face,

features that suggest charm and grace.

Glamorous as a galaxy,

but where is my legacy?

--Are we the fingerprint of a cosmic hand?

We are so dissatisfied with all that is calm and bland.

Eyes turned up to match the sky

a profile cut against the blue

searching out the pictures in the clouds.

Jacob wrestled until the dawn,

Fighting until his strength was gone

God against the clever sneak,

and on I fight--
 the Love I seek.