the miracle of life
pulsates through this reddened heart,
birthed from the breath of Deities -
no, Him; no, Darwin,
and cast to a limbo of fabrications, purgatory
spoon-fed a meal of subtle prejudice,
filling enough to last a lifetime,
soon, slip between the corset of being,
learn where to sit between fire and air.

a woman with one foot in the grave,
her hands are sinewy with age,
the lines on her skin whisper their tales of
malevolence and moral; and malevolence,
she does not dwell on past penitence,
for behind her eyes,
there is a haze that fogs her brain,
why, or how? -
keeper of unfathomable time and wisdom,
but her sobs in tune with the young
that succeed her, still longing
for answers to her greatest fear,
and so she begs and is gifted,
with the claws of Death.

three doors down in the hospice,
a mother traces the fontanelles of her child,
soft as the wrinkled skin of the woman
yet without the gentle touch of knowledge,
these are latitudes and longitudes
of a new planet, not a new Universe,
why, or how? -
her fontanelles hold unfathomable purity,
but her sobs sing in tune
with the ill and the dying;
now she is longing for a greatest fear,
and so she begs and is gifted
with the claws of Life.

why have we lived, if at all?
why do we cower from the gaping hole
above our heads, as if we could ever change
the alignment of the stars?
forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,
i can not do but mock the shriek
of a black locale that you have celeped agape,
i fear you are not my origin,
you are not my origin,
the stars have long begun writing my will.

ah, well. i'm back to writing i suppose. this is my lil take on death and what not. let me know your thoughts! <3