Among the thousands who are known or want to be known as poets
Maybe one or two are genuine and the rest are fakes
Hanging around the sacred precincts
Trying to look like the real thing
Needless to say I am one of the fake
And this is my story
I've worked at my work
I've slept at my sleep
I've died at my death
And now I can leave
Leave what is needed
And leave what is full
Need in the spirit
And need in the whole
Beloved, I'm yours, as I have always been
From marrow to pore
From longing to skin
Now that my mission has come to its end
I pray I'm forgiven the life that I've led