Good Intentions
Out of the earth of me
The inklings, the flecks and little nuggets of conviction
Gathered rough and ready
Refined in heat and under pressure
Poured into ingots, hammered to shape,
Cut for the die
My face stamped unmistakably on each one
Freshly minted, they gleam in smooth perfection
They will buy power and status, victory, domination,
Real estate, land and all that thereon is.
True virtue !
In time they will be worn down, become illegible -
But some will be hoarded
Buried in stealth or panic
The intention to be good another time
When a new dawn beckons.
Will I return to claim them,
Dig them up and put them to pristine use?
I never paved the road to hell with them
Put them under the heel of history.
They lie still, burnished and ready
I'll rescue them perfect from the ground -
But in the light of day who can tell which will ring true,
Which melt down or grind, grind coarse or even fine,
Fine memories ?
.
