Triumph

Stand on your altar

in the empire, friends.

New becomes old

and old became so new

as we declare boldly

that nobody's gonna tell

us how to love

on this day or ever again.

a gardener disquieted

I once could call each bud by name,

stems all aligned and lashed

together to be counted and arranged.

Some set of wings gingerly beat,

caught my blessings flat-footed,

and no longer can

I enumerate

these fickle petals,

having been readily agitated

by the unrelenting

brightness of your soul