A bare moment's cleanliness warns <br />of imminent death; no question that <br />virtue comes at the obtuse end of a <br />duster wielded deftly - there are no <br />accolades to ring in this room swept <br />clean of poetic debris, no carolling a <br />desk conscience-clear, of farewells to <br />hook and feather littered aspirations <br /> <br />But eyes feast on space wondrously <br />free of disparate signs someone else <br />lived here - discarded skin cells and <br />detritus of defoliate hair, of oblique <br />insights estranged, compliments to <br />order as change achieves holiness <br />© 5 February 2012, I. D. Carswell<br /><br />Ivan Donn Carswell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/achieving-holiness/
