Le gusta, purkling-blue?

I look at myself and ask questions

questions in the maelstrom of disfigurement

questions curling about

looking at someone unloved

some Word to hold

while passing through the storm

I weep

I cry

I moan in solitude

longing for truth

hovering about my heart

It is Truth 

or some somber alien

churning the wheels of discord

churning what might fall

sliding down the scale

What will guide me to the space

where the answers lay about

staring, sharing, pushing toward the school

the school of learning

where more questions lay about

and the blue-ridge squeezes out a message

that might possibly calm this night

possibly heal my sight

searching for purkling-blue?

What's racing through my heart?

What is the "want" awaiting the urging thirst

answering the baffling quest

"Le gusta, purkling-blue?"

I don't know

but reach about for the floundering truth

midst the rile and ruthless ever new

stewing and brewing and cooking up anew

what's ever there

to break through, break through

and serve the soothing stew