Beneath the Southern Cross

Oh 
to be 
not anyone 
gone 
this maze of being 
skin 
oh 
to cry 
not any cry 
so mournful that 
the dove just laughs 
the steadfast gasps 

oh 
to owe 
not anyone 
nothing 
to be 
not here 
but here 
forsaking 
equatorial bliss 
who walked through 
the callow mist 
dressed in scraps 
who walked 
the curve of the world 
whose bone scraped 
whose flesh unfurled 
who grieves not 
anyone gone 
to greet lame 
the inspired sky 
amazed to stumble 
where gods get lost 
beneath