9-9-2020
Picking up
Pieces of
Foreign geometries
Fractus flushed
Shadows dawn
In bedside manors
As we grieve in silence,
Carry on.
That familiar order
Forever gone,
Along with one’s
We Love.
Observe in quietude,
When Spirits move on.
The emptiest Cups
Of Crimson so deep
Shift into the Black
Bone or ink.
Climb into
Uncomfortable, horrific
Circumstance.
Absorb the inertia,
Because no one can.
We can’t save each other
From what awaits.
For, if we beheld destiny
We’d succumb to no Fates.
bitfeed