Which player
is the bullet’s
favorite
in the ol’
honorable
game..
of Russian
Roulette?

Is it The One
who spins
the cylinder?
Or else The One
who points
the barrel
to the temple
on his head?

The One
who pulls
the trigger..
just so he can
live to play …

Which one of us
is Judas?
Which is Jesus?

Which one
delivers us
from sin?
And which
delivers Death’s
sweet kisses?
Which hangs
upon the cross?
And which upon
the willow tree?

Who knows..
Not you?
Then it just
might be
me.

I hold the key
to prying open
yet unfathomed
treasure chests.
Treasures that
still lay buried
for the benefit
of but the dead.

Wouldn’t they do
more good
in living hands
instead?
Alas, Death
grips them tightly,
out of reach..
away from hands
of those who tend to
moralize …

Where shall we find
the quenching
of our thirst..
once we’ve exhausted
all the water
in our deepest well?

Shall we prostrate
ourselves
to highest heavens
for the rain
to fall again?

Shall we abandon
everything we know
for promised lands
where rivers flow
abundantly?

Or shall we
simply …

The very same
by which we sow
our seeds
is that by which
we reap their sweet
and bitter fruits.
The same by which
we grasp at the
ever elusive
grains of truth.

The All of it,
however, slips
right through
the trembling
fingers on our
calloused
hands.

How many …

If not a mirror,
then what else
reveals to us,
for our own eyes
to see?..
the beauty of the other
living in ourselves.
The other of the me?

There’s beauty
living in you
that the other
may or may not see.
But to behold it
from your own …

The paths unfolding
right before us
twist and bend.
Some paths we walk
alone.. others
we travel
hand in hand.

Into forgotten places
where our past
entangles with our
present state.
Who charts our course
through life?
By whose divine authority
is it ordained?

Is it by will of blinded …

LLMs can take
my Vim text editor..
out of my cold,
dead hands.

Call me an old head
for it, if you please..
I’d rather not forsake
the art of doing it
myself for mere
convenience
and ease.

I do not judge you
if you use them
for that …

The hardest
beast to tame
resides within.
The beast
of burden
that may only
be controlled
by reins of will.

To reap
sweet fruits
of labor
it behooves
The One
to plough
his fields
before
he sows.

The only
beast of burden
I may count upon
to help me do …

Upon a time,
not long ago..
When spring
was still abundant
in its flows.

When winter
was still fading
as a ghostly
memory.
Away from home,
across
The Ocean-sea..

I roamed
The Old World streets
of a magnificently aged
port city.
Ships came and went
about their business,
unlike me …