Across the surface, drag the hand
Knotted wood and obsidian.
Splinters sliver, skin sliced through,
The surface bleeds an ocean blue.
Stroke the metal torn and rusted,
pitted rock, lichen crusted.
Press the door oh sojourner,
press the surface ever more.
Slide your fingers along the crypts,
a three thousand year old obelisk.
Reach through water, place a kiss;
The face of God calls pious lips.
Press the door, it’s hinges hold
behind the surface, secrets told.
No comments:
Post a Comment