Conceit

Conceit
We are unearthed
heavy wooden doors
the warp
whooshes out.
I am thankful
for little blessings
the strength to climb
in opposite directions.
Dying daily
in forgiving arms
my sins uncovered
by the evil of your love.
She holds her candle
against the darkness
and shouts conceit!
Flows in and around
un-puttied windows
the cracks in my soul
comfortable in my place.
I hide with farmers
in Plato’s cave
we watch the beautiful shadows
and dream of freedom.

© Deep Piercing Cut 2008