pockets deceive themselves
when ashes depart into the offering
momentum of tired fists
shooting into space
harboring some hatred to God
or His silence

aching eyelids travel
to another offer
testing the weight of a soul
unable to measure its true worth
until it's released

and these eyes which have
steadily grown into catastrophe
tapping doomed potential
when the last gamble can't lead to compromise
only closure

a living parable written in word
dotting its last period
when the eyes shut
and accept there's a vast darkness
where limitation doesn't have to be the focal point
it never was after all