You could never be undone; you are whole
Though thinking so pulls you in pieces
leaving strands like cloth fraying at the ends
a tattered memory, a dream in prosthesis
so when he reaches to touch, he can't feel
Yet what is deemed false? What is real?
Thoughts that are tangible, the waking arts that
manifest pages as ink stretched words and phrases
poetry and pictures of places, things, shapes, faces
are the stitches that have been sewn, the lines etched
permanent marks that can't be erased
They're engraved. Pressed.
You would never be undone; fully together
Watching the storms hover close with no shelter needed
Will you look to the lightning and hear the thunder precede it?
For there is warning that comes, the angered spark
That wakes the sleeping men or yanks them apart.
Though thinking so pulls you in pieces
leaving strands like cloth fraying at the ends
a tattered memory, a dream in prosthesis
so when he reaches to touch, he can't feel
Yet what is deemed false? What is real?
Thoughts that are tangible, the waking arts that
manifest pages as ink stretched words and phrases
poetry and pictures of places, things, shapes, faces
are the stitches that have been sewn, the lines etched
permanent marks that can't be erased
They're engraved. Pressed.
You would never be undone; fully together
Watching the storms hover close with no shelter needed
Will you look to the lightning and hear the thunder precede it?
For there is warning that comes, the angered spark
That wakes the sleeping men or yanks them apart.