A dry darkness like that of a new moon <br />Is spreading within us. <br />We climb the daily up-hill path, <br />Stick figures in line, <br />With the precision of the northern army, <br />Seeking the one letter god which hovers above us, <br />Great and glowing. <br /> <br />Made up of the stuff of rainbows, <br />It eludes our grasp, <br />Drifting always just out of reach. <br /> <br />Personal jets sore in attempt to reach it <br />But succeed only in applying <br />That damned vertical line that lures and tempts us, <br />Temporarily altering the god's appearance <br />Until the next time we look.<br /><br />Adrianne Quinlan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/s-11/
