What Of It Is And Then Is It Poem by James McLain

Two was it, is it all that we are left
Two stanzas a curse leaving gone
back to you? ..I run towards my open
hand counting a shadows fingers to
be seen not touched, my own, not by
me.
Shadowless sun creeping hot again
knowing a tree in shadow councils in
all, exposing only edges ragged gapes
of light where reality does excite with.

It is good it is bad directionals shadow
tells all is secreted unveiled faces willowy
slender as waist of evergreen it is scented.