Are you listening?
Do the particles of light between us beckon you to come closer?
Is there a margin of error wide enough
To disclose our weaknesses
And allow us to breathe deep
~~~~~
Synchronized -
Like a thousand pregnant poppies,
Inhaling oxygenated beams of sunlight,
And stretching forth their petals to welcome new life?

Can you lift the fog high,
Climb out from under,
Hold my head in your hands,
And reassure me...
That the clock will continue
Tick-Tock...
Tick-Tock...
Tick-tocking-down-the-hours
And that,
Even in the failure of batteries-galore,
Or a face smashed to bits,
Or hands fully-paralyzed...
By rust,
Or dust,
Or ... fate?
Moments will go on,
Slipping out of our reach?

So you say,
I am in need of the Balm of Gilead.
There is no rest,
Until the rest is left alone.
© tourniquette