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Found Lacking



It's not what they give.
It's not what they have.
It's what they give of what they have.

The lust fog, the sunlight stratagem,
the directive to start counting and to count
until you topple.

What will you approve, allow, accept
to gain what you most want
of what you had and lost or
of what you desired but never had?

Can't you feel it?
Can't you feel its lack?

A rose quartz is just a
stained stone.  So hard, it shatters.
Without trying, it doesn't
matter. Does it matter?
The answer lies in the answerer.

What you lack is what you need.
What you fail to grasp is what you need
to know.
What you haven't done is what
you need to do.

Loom across the loam,
linger with moonswollen fingers
and toes grasping, clutching,
letting go.

There is no sin
like boring the bored.
There is no sin
in boring the bored.

You get yours before,
they say they believe,
or will get, after.

All poems are written and copyrighted by Michael C. Rush.
None may be republished or repurposed without permission.