While humanity suffers,

there’s no way to hold hands

and be a friend

if we can’t stop the sound of crying

and understand the divinity within.

Unchained passions for war,

malignant smiles

and unspoken thoughts,

a recipe for disaster in a race

for the tenement of death.

We all grope

for a prism of light

on the impermanent

edge of a cliff.

A dissonant dirge

of an invisible world

allows gravity to fall away

in the derangement of the senses.

With words elusive

as quicksilver, we hold a stone

as hands and feet grow cold

over a frozen river.

The soul’s imposter body

searches in the heart of the night sky

for answers.