within every fiber
you dwell inside of me
the sound of the rain drumming wildly
i am tired or maybe I’m just idle
wishing that you’d return
sorceress of the continents
healer to courtesans and royalty
i seek your comfort and your company
single hands build tiny nests
awareness relies on itself for its totality
the blessed hands that spin our clothes
hold our shadows in their souls
and keep the world in balance
if you knew you’d cry
or at least break down and sigh
and let out the anger you’ve buried deep inside
i am trying to reach you
all our channels are crossed
and i cant seem to teach you
that we are all off course
you can see what happens
to the obsequious sycophants
who deny the holy company
the absurdity of our complications
have got me quite frustrated
why do we not ponder our salvation
or seek to better our situation and circumstances
there is no lack of reprimands
or mandates to demonstrate our activism