My name stares
at me from the paper
I placed it on.

Birthing from lead that
bleeds energy into life.

But I wonder as the paper
speaks with what I have taught
it to speak.

Eyes painted towards the world.

Wavering across the lands,

by the force of nature.

And maybe one day,

that same piece of paper will
arrive at my feet.

At the time where my life
becomes a scroll marked with
a turmoiled sunset.

I hope to pick this paper up,

And hope that it has titled itself

In this untitled world.

-CMCrain


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