Jagged angles pierce the air,
Mornings rise, evening dies,
Blossoms bloom where ‘fore ’twas bare.
Hands do tick as metals spin,
On grass spin scythes, worms under hide,
Our cardboard boxes settle in.
Time for this and time for that,
This side up, red plastic cup,
And broken TVs staring at.
Silence speaks louder than words,
Vibrations ring and my heart sings,
And sings so thoughtless like the birds.
Fingers under pillow creep,
Clumsy search, they find their perch:
Callous scars from blade I keep.
Desires of my heart burst forth,
I ask, You grant; I ask, I chant,
You’re constant, like the Star of North.