Trying to Justify It, if Possible

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He wonders whether
or not it is enough to
admit simply that the blood
in him
is thrilling
because it is July in the desert
and the rains are coming

Questions whether
Or not he ought put
to words how the gathering clouds will 
exalt into a column over the horizon
and become heavy with
a darkness that hovered
once over the face of
The Deep

Or whether it is necessary
to elaborate on how the desert would
not be the stage it is, upon which
the Powers play,
were it any less empty

Or even to go into
how the best music
has ever been a ceaseless
call-and-response between harshness
and beauty, Life and
Death —

Difficulty measuring it all
up, because he feels so very small,
in the face of it 

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