Away, Further, Farther

Take it away, break it apart, shake it down to the roots;

Remove the stops and every boarded barrier,

It will not stand, it will not remain, it will all go.

The day of me is coming, prepare the way forward!

I will not, forevermore move backward again.

Away, further, farther, never again, for I am done

With idle chatter, empty talkers, empty hearts,

Profaners of spirits, binders and breakers of things.

I will have no part of heaviness, the tawdry, the turners of keys.

I will unlock it, lighten it, refresh with every breath,

Open doors with both hands, throw back curtains,

Dispel shadows in every crooked corner.

I am done with the manic, the mundane, the talkers of circles,

The heartless, the happily lost, the throwers of storms.

I am done with the shielders of eyes, and folders of hands,

The forbidders, the fakers, the false friends.

I will leave you at the back of me, every one.

I will walk waves and fly mountains,

Break chains and lines and countless boundaries,

Nor will I bow, scrape, beg or ask permission.

You walking dead, you faceless persons, you half livers of lives,

Stand aside. Give me instead, an honest coward, a foolish friend,

The heavy hearted harlot, the bravely despairing,

Than one more moment among the wise, the perfect, the pure.

I will rather, walk with my stars about me,

Laugh much and deeply, give freely, love often,

Conversing with fools and friends, forgiving richly.

Oh, sweet song of spring in my heart, calling and waking.

Grasp and clutch me, my tender, young lover.

I will never again be without your name, your face.

Prepare now, the soft and sweet bower of your bosom,

For behold, the bridegroom of summer comes again to your

Chamber and I will open you as the flower is opened to the sun

And dance with you the dance of the hummingbird upon the blossom.

We will worship together in the cathedral of wood and stone and sky

And swim in the skins of us dressed in moonlight.

We will light the fire of night with our burning

And grasp toward heaven with hands and lips and souls.

Eric M. Petit