In a pickle

 You are awake

you dream the dreams

that lovers make

in daylight hours.

You haunt the city of worship

infiltrating the minds of the meek

and uninhabited.

You hover languidly o’er forgotten

relics in memory of those

who sought, yet seek no more

and those who fought too hard to see.

You stalk

inside a labyrinth of fear illuminated

by knowledge.

Your acceptance clears safe passage

to every exit and entrances those

who dare to tread deep waters.

How have you not busied

yourself with the mundane?

How have you suffered the foolish?

How you have enlightened us,

the now-knowers

How you have sweetened our lips

with brine and vinegar.

Make my day