The pounding of a Heart—again—
A Drum within my Chest—
The Marble Altar—Silver-grained—
Receives its solemn Guest—

Immobile lies the trembling Flesh—
A Vessel, wide with Sight—
To witness Hands, so veteran—
Divide the Day from Night—

He splits me, like the Autumn Husk—
To harvest what’s within—
The Fetus, plucked, a fragile Pearl—
Exposed to Birth—and Sin—

He swings the Babe, a pendulum—
Its Breath—a mournful Knell—
The Audience, a silent Choir—
Their gaze—a Private Hell—

No Cry escapes the aching Lips—
No Tear the Cheek shall know—
But Loss ignites—a burning Vein—
To set the Soul aglow—

We play as Gods, upon the Stage—
While Ghosts beyond the Frame—
Collapse in Hunger’s fragile Shell—
And whisper but a Name—

The Comedy and Tragedy—
In Sinless Whites, combined—
A Truth so sharp—it cuts the Cord—
That tethers Life to Mind—