Arguments (for & against)

Inspired by a Leeds Savage Club writing task

If I look skyward to dark clouds
and rainbows,
that may or may not be,
each tree,
each tumbling, rolling dale,
has still
its wanton eyes on me…

…Patience is a virtue,

I was always told, but
how true when the bends and the kinks,
and the folds in heartbeats, grew deeper
and more chiasmic each day,
and a fog crept sinister to impede my
tender,
naïve ways, of seeing and becoming
all things I could give,
when the holes needed clearing and
the filthy sieve to be picked with
a fork tang, a needle,
the sharpest of pins
before sweeter ingredients ever found their
way in;

perhaps blood was required to thicken

the sauce, to stain petals of lilies that spoke
white words of remorse, when brought and laid,
and intended as truth,
were only ever known as the power to use,
and to shape a soul, that was pleased to believe,
with each newly soaked and sticky leaf,
and accepted the marks they left on me
as deserved stepping stones to never…

We hacked our way, you and I, together
across fields of barren nothing (and everything)
and sacred, purple heather,
in a rain that would not stop,
despite the corks and the bottle
tops I tried so hard to push
into the holes; and as another day and
night shall approach
where I should crouch and bring you
roses, for whatever was
and will not be,
I know now
there only ever can be
parts of something,
if you have only pieces to give.