The Profanity Poem by RIC BASTASA

the state of the body
is wavering
to the rocks of the wind
and there is this shaking
that mistakes us
for what we really are

there is the pillar
that you cannot touch and see
but you can feel it

could be the heart
or the soul
could be the whisper of
the truth
it is there
and there is nothing
that we can do
to deny it
of its existence

only and only if
we do not make profanity
of the words

those that we do not really
mean
and those that we constantly
keep on
not doing

what a pity
for one to go on flaunting
what should not
have been
in the hands and the palms