You and I are not dead yet,
I think I know it,
I know you do.
I see you in the minutiae
of the stars.
its all the same
from way down here,
a grand perception, a vision
of you at sunset flickering
without your flame.
Your call to arms is
a boy cries wolf.
I mold you into art
from nuts and bolts.
In conflict
you catch my eye
and then you’re gone.
Your coming is inconsistent,
different colors, different shades,
you're more than one.
I cannot ascertain the
direction from which they come,
left or right, above, below, I don't know
I only know when they come
when all of them come
all of you
you are more than one when all of you come
all of you
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 12:54 AM UTC
You and I are not dead yet,
I think I know it,
I know you do.
I see you in the minutiae
of the stars.
its all the same
from way down here,
a grand perception, a vision
of you at sunset flickering
without your flame.
Your call to arms is
a boy cries wolf.
I mold you into art
from nuts and bolts.
In conflict
you catch my eye
and then you’re gone.
Your coming is inconsistent,
different colors, different shades,
you're more than one.
I cannot ascertain the
direction from which they come,
left or right, above, below, I don't know
I only know when they come
when all of them come
all of you
you are more than one when all of you come
all of you
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