The porous language of a soothing, sitting oracle,

The contraction of your drying lips that never sipped delight,

The ghostly vapor of your sound health is no real or fake miracle,

A miracle is a time you've never lived, a lamp you can't light

Searched, deeply and yet deeper but the sweet tones are hollow,

The focus, the pain, the shell of yourself doesn't feel in your hands,

The past, the never happened, the now and the impossible tomorrow,

All built on the damp sands of ev'rything in yourself you can't stand

You are flaccid but you must stiffen and regroup and make up,

The ground you have lost to the beast that broke you inside and fooled you,

You slumbered as you weakened in mind and heart so please now wake up,

The distant voice trying to be close echoes the thoughts that ruled you

But the breakthrough,

The station at which you rest,

The pill and potion,

The salve and the balm:

Everything is elastic