I can speak the hymnals that will
point to east forged with steel
tempered with the wrist of west and
a shallow grin unmet with the acrid
smile that gloats and prepares you
for a purposeful tryst with atoms.
I can speak the hymnals that will
chime with the low as it rings the
tune of up high, each vassal a vessel
splitting the tar hair that binds him
to rock certainties affixed by hand
of sin and pain and groomed with time.
Yikes, you’ve done it again. I keep pressing that darned like button, but that response is insipid and utterly fails to reflect my sense of awe at your work.
The words in this one came out quite easily. Doesn’t happen as often as I would like 🙂 Glad it spoke to you. Thanks.