At the End of Night

At the End of Night

I exist

to be conquered

I, set against all other I’s,

even nature, am a stillborn

poem taken out

of  my mother’s pain. 

Once I was immortal

beside the sea

condemned to endless mornings,

empty of the knowledge

of manmade rituals

until out of my mouth that knows

came the shape I was seeking

for reason.  

Now I am lost among 
the stiff trees.