Post by Castle Court Jester on Oct 25, 2024 1:17:19 GMT -6
Clay Hands
Though we match in many ways
by law we are meant to be apart.
It matters not with all the “could have beens.”
No second thought is given to the heart.
Much like a spreading virus,
to remain detached, such be the goal.
To walk a one-way street in violation.
All to support the given role.
Hands reach out to me.
Some made out of clay.
I travel a narrow, dark passageway
where at the end stands a figure with dying flame.
I go to the figure for that is what the voices say.
We match.
I match you, you mean in return.
That will be always and why my soul must burn.
Dry.
Like sand,
like glass it has become anymore.
Placed on some shelf in a once broken urn.
In one way we do not click.
There is always going to be one way or another.
Those clay hands, they move in to cover my face.
To smother.
And I will witness the figure.
My eyes focused on the dying flame.
But before winking out
you may verbalize my name.
--msl2024
Though we match in many ways
by law we are meant to be apart.
It matters not with all the “could have beens.”
No second thought is given to the heart.
Much like a spreading virus,
to remain detached, such be the goal.
To walk a one-way street in violation.
All to support the given role.
Hands reach out to me.
Some made out of clay.
I travel a narrow, dark passageway
where at the end stands a figure with dying flame.
I go to the figure for that is what the voices say.
We match.
I match you, you mean in return.
That will be always and why my soul must burn.
Dry.
Like sand,
like glass it has become anymore.
Placed on some shelf in a once broken urn.
In one way we do not click.
There is always going to be one way or another.
Those clay hands, they move in to cover my face.
To smother.
And I will witness the figure.
My eyes focused on the dying flame.
But before winking out
you may verbalize my name.
--msl2024
Well done Michael.