subtext

Once again,

you tell me

what my words mean;

not placing words in my mouth,

but taking my words,

reshaping them

to your purposes,

an appropriation of intent.

Content in your beatific vision,

you sit blinded

to the insights of dissent,

the first slow tremble

of the lotus

before the fall.

Be still;

know in this silence

between now

and the damp petals

upon the resurgent ground.