Planet of Sphere. Ocean of Water.
Word of Mouth. Light of Day.
World of Why's.

Every other breath a question.
Every other gesture a fist
Shaken towards the skies, or palms
Tracing a hole of absence
Shaped as a closest one.

There are no parents
Treading this Globe of Ground.
All of us infant siblings, comparing
Perceptions in a vacuum of
Answers.

Sons and daughters all become
Not.
Fathers and mothers fall victim
To blood drawn from own blood
And remain as drained
Heart shaped shadows, if in any
Shape at all.

The only cure against loss
Is not being there to lose, or never
Having had any ones to.

World of Why's.
Men of War; each a Child of Mother,
Whether as living as childplay  
Or fallen as something that
Has.

I am strong enough to hold you
So hard you won't feel yourself.
Inside you, where you carry
All you love, though, is a universe
Away from my
Reach.

That is why they are safe.
Safe as statues, painfree as
Mountains.
And why
You never
Will be.