turnings

when you search in the depression,
the gaping, yawning cracks
for the miracle that has been said
will be
and encounter the convoluted deceitful chambers
of your innerscape,
every revelation holds life captive,
as the sustaining wisdom on breezes is
sucked,
leaving the shell's fragility,
and you --
standing,
with your props of words and smiles that hold
your little world together.
a shadow of who was promised,
dissipating -- as you turn,
towards the faintest flicker that proceeds
and consumes.
the miracle is you.