An Intrinsic Exquisite

renunciation

in which the macho nightmare

meets the bimbo dream

if
there was intent
a truth transcendent
how would you know?

would the silver-tipped touch of an infant do?
or
would you need something
more profound?

waves crash in the distance
boats cruise by looking for whales
they don't see me
beached
breathless
anticipating a change so thoroughly magnificent
as to drive all doubts away

on the wind the angels sing
we attempt glory
we sing nightwebs for you to untangle