taken hold and being held by some WANT

some mighty draw pulling us into the jaw of its NEED

some addiction seducing in its empty, outstretched arms

a face, once full, now rapaciously gray

starving behind the paints 'round hollow eyes

and shadowed lips

taken hold and held, i slide into its comfort zone

aching in my gut, spinning in my head

lusting what's promised, sorrowed at it's lack

needing more than a wish

the coaxing bearing a prize of leaves instantly dead

before they reach my hands

as I peer into the jungle where other WANTS crouch

poised to snare the plotted soul

a Face peers above the WANTS.

its tears of blood nurture the earth

feeding the flow'rs with each red drop

that can be plucked in the restless night

whose fragrance pervades ones environment

a healing remedy like the cereus  

*Thoughts of Alan Jones:

  -...it often takes tragedy to bring us to the realization that our lives are held together by an extremely fragile web.

  -...we are incurably forgetful and need a jolt from time to time to wake us up.

  -Sin often begins as a kind of forgetfulness, an absent-mindedness that allow us not to be truly present to ourselves - to be "not at home" so that we can, without compunction, steel our hearts against others and undermine the foundations of the City.

  -The desert way of believing claims that we are most truly ourselves when we are most at home with ourselves.