The seeker

I, too, dream of the stars
But the land is bare and the storms submerge
Flooding our eyes with permanent tears.

Beauty, somehow, evolves
From the putrefaction of the tropical corpse
From its mind-numbing shock
Keen, even, to the stealthiest touch
Throbbing through the night
Painful and alive.

I, too, dream of the stars
Of the freedom at the end of our fights
Of the joys that will be raised
From the abstractions that we have reared
In the fields of our faith.