top of page


Tim Cantor, 2022

I'm a slave to my hopes, and my hopes are too grand

They're for love and for strength and to be a great man

For an infinite life and an infinite plan

Yet my heart sows faint, my fainthearted beat, languished and shy

Weakened by reticence, forbidden by fear

I'm a falsehood of force that unfolds as a lie

My low silence cursed, yellow and faint and fails me to fly

The untold is lost truth, wrapped, and it’s buried in me

I crave love and bleed blood and, if so, could shatter the sea

There’s a monster in me, colored and loud, vicious and free

A version of me of what I wish I could be

I'm a slave to my hopes though they're distant and grand

Buried, waiting, to be born or be damned

My hopes, they're grand, they’re fire, they’re flowers, here in my hand

I'm a monster at sea

And I’m swimming for land

bottom of page