that which is most bitter is the taste of shunning faces
that which is the sweetest is the brotherly grip
but these are all the palatte of mortal tongue
this human fruit
that apple is an earthly fare
and may stay the hunger for a while

hungry am i but I know like promagranate seeds
death-touched if once it touched but once my lips

the only succour comes from that ambrosia kiss
that from heaven-poured have never touched the earth
like the pelican young I reach
for that flaming draught
and in time yearned
to a phoenix transformed

while in the mean-
time a lonely shadow walked
knocking on doors and
snatching scents from fleshly traps
not too far a-step from that passed-over fruit
hungry turn my head
but my feet tugged my heart, must move forth