the in wards of gammon

there’s something to
feeling unrent
access denied
more often unspent

when no one arrives us
don’t see what we hear
our gifts counter to protect
from no ear here to rear

then through with our steppers
not indifferent not unkind
we puzzle the pieces
we feed our fat minds

oh reader not needer
your source it awaits
it sees what you’re seeing
recognizes your gait

then asks you to go toward
what you already are
through hell and high water
all the way
there you are