What can save this soul,
so drenched in the invisible fire,
yearning for quenching solution,
wading in the body of water so abundant?
Thus, it’s named shame,
which ignites at the slightest offense,
alighting brightly the promenade of consciousness
so bright others could see it miles off.
Alas, a source of solace: communion.
In commiserations shared in nakedness,
we profess deepest thoughts and desires.
Reverberating in darkness, the long waited calm
dawns on the shoulders
like the crocheted navy blue blanket.
3.3.2026
Ralph with Coffee 