Thursday, November 16, 2006

Nothing new

I cradle the weight
Of karmic law
Oh... she senses,
But she cannot see.
The tale of siblings
Too intertwined
To be stripped apart by sin,
A punishment that she still lives,
That she still breathes.
And now,
Her anger and her fears
Pierce parchment,
Crisp and corroded,
With fire, forbidden desire,
And the memory of
Cotton gowns
Worn and blue,
While we held each other
Scraping enamel from
A crumbling pew.
In Akashic temples
I find our records,
Rested and restored,
I read quickly,
Significantly moved,
While she stumbles
Over a language
Unknown by most,
And spoken by few,
While I weep once again,
For knowing
This is nothing

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