stay on, my calm son

prophet of prodigality 
mover of divine breezes 
while your coordinate system 
calibrates to not-going-anywhere 

once again, we find ourselves talking 
as if plural to the second person 
who lives inside the first 
carrying a listening burden lightly 

for ears rest gently 
under the excess rebellious hair 
which will become idetic 
but never less unfair 

germination is beyond a duty 
as cultivation follows
reckon with that sense of beauty 
whose life is shadow sorrows