Between

Between

 

between the nomads

and the even steps

of the next dune

are the evening deserts

and the makeshift tents

that transport me

from wilderness to wild

to forage in such excess

is to gaze at times

into an open abyss

and contemplate

the thrill of oblivion

today, though

I am stuck between the petty

and the awful intolerance

of the few, who despise

the middle ground

for the end to symbol

and type

instead, am caught between

wisdom and the e'en

sided ambivalence

of tomorrow

surely instead of hate

we can contemplate

the temerity to love

with hands raised to grace

and bodies bent to love

to love and live

live and love