Progress

The sheer manner strives
to dance through life
but gray would find a way-
a tiptoe through the fairy tale,
sheer blindness, in that fray.

black becomes a miracle,
The ghost upon the dawn:
Peel it back, discard the stain
that sunset sits upon.

Scrape away the dark old spring,
Every root, every lost scent,
Drown the hands in myths of green,
The brown, all graves' descent.

should it live (As it may)
as left upon the right,
Set the people to its side
And let them see the light.