Three Doves

You point fingers at me

For patronizing

For invading

Just let me in

So I can take you out

I don't want your anger to fill me

I have three fresh and old

Sitting by the candle

Ready to be told

Don't hate me when I touch things

And they turn to gold

He would love his son

If he ever had one

But I want not

Feel not

Care not

Hate not

Seek not

But glide ever onwards through your domain

And wonder

This used to be a piece of lint, thrown away

And now I know it

And I should've worshipped it

But I never recognized what made it

My three black and white doves shall sing

Do behave singularly

The universe wants chaos

And we shall deny it

The time is nigh

And a dark moon is setting in

But I will keep it there

Half-full or empty

Though instinctual discernment may ponder

And I will not

Want not

Find not

Or distill many souls

'Til they inquire where I belong