Evasive No More

Was it God who put me here
Or came to witness my disposition
To hear the sounds tall, telling me to make
To burden the winds of gregarious chanting
To make do with what rhymes could no wake?

Was it God who punished me for my collapse
Left me for nothing but to pretend that I was sane
Among the city indwellers and too short pines
That wake the dead every day with disturbances of new
That stem from long awoke rumors of sane spines?

Was it God what made me forever in a hymn
To be broken and shattered like an evasive silent room
Where is that silence, that thought of nothing
Where is that slowly departing rhythm of solemn wokefullness
That celebrates a return to human voices over human voices?

Should I be evasive no more and tell the earth
That I am free from sound, from stalking winds
That no longer poison my stutter like a sharp glass inside
But instead, dispel all notions that I was with her
Her inside that heart of mine, where she told me to wait?

I was there, I told myself to be there in her honor
I was pleasant and kind and that was enough to hide
What I had done to deserve this, this point of displeasure
This woken broadcasting, here for the mirror of time
And resurrected roses for Chinese stalwarts forever in tune.