Until One Rose Breathes Poem by Michael Walkerjohn

IAM
the very
last dignity
the lone heart
all force and silence
in any humane order…
Fear of my roaring, before
all tenderness leaves me. IAM
of the same place, that calls on the
strength of all shooting stars. IAM the
beauty, of the gathering dusts; the songs
the breath, the reminiscence of You and I in
billions, of profound hearts, beating through
the rolled away stone; that led to my living…
IAM a man, black veined, long lived of this
negligence, drunk of honeyed ale, that
spirit of all the winds; the bell that rings
of all worth in Heaven's Cemetery. In each
mind I wander and wonder just what to do…
To try, to kill, to marry what it is IAM; what
IAM belongs, in the truth; shines through
and roams in the strength that reigns in
all human generations. Billions now
acknowledge that IAM and will do
so weep, until one rose breathes.