(such a brilliant poem: Guru;
forgive me, I just had to try and respond
however inadequate my words may read
aside - your poetic genius)..
those symbolic Bilberries of yearned-for, modest perfection
do indeed stain our legacies
churn our guts, till our eyes: glare Green
and somewhere in that mirage of our shadow's shed
we awaken, a small sprouting of hope
accustomed to aiming low, for being planted
in a world with diminishing light: to begin with...-
L. B. Mek