Salt on my Tongue

To taste the Salts
Of the forbidden river
Would allow one to walk
The Sacred Path of the Enlightened.

The path in which none could flex
Their nefarious might,
And even fewer
Could stare the face of primitive light.

Stemming from few
And parted for many;
Sanctioned happiness
Would be proportionately skinny.

The light in stark darkness
Would path a door to you;
While the chosen
Could find safety on the road of lesser hope.

Under canopy cover,
The ebbs cover lightly
The blemish of this darkened soul –
Leaving only the regrets of saltless rations
And accomplishments of foes.

Sirens of heartache and primordial blessings;
Reap only the rewards of solvent lunacy;
No man shall walk this path’s confessions,
And moonlight it’s faux obscenity.

©2005 Joe Jenkins