Stone-hearts stay cold even when blood runs like lava.
That push and pull carves roads in your skin like the glaciers from ancient tides,
A highway of frozen earth trapped by walls that can’t reach to the heavens.
If I fill the canyon with the heavy hearts of broken souls,
the children can have a lake to fish in when they grow old.
The catch?
Just the shadowy figures of the past anchored to the earth.
So pull, pull, pull and reel as hard as you can.
Can we get out of here please? I haven’t seen the rest of the world yet.