Poem: Origins


I call you one more time,

in the silence of the day,

the sign too enormous not to see,

to let you know,

the fight is not over,

the solution has not been destroyed.

I call you not too loudly,

where they will hear us whisper,

appreciating the doorways,

opening wider to the blinding heat,

securing ourselves to the core,

not giving up.

I call not in the middle night,

but in tiny slivers of all darkness,

closer to the beholden image,

the dear one,

not quite ready to be sacrificed,

where the egg grows.




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