They were always within each's grasp hand in hand
Sewn in eternity twine. Wondering the forsaken road
Of deadwood fences,they were a distortion of the before
When they weren't always observing in sight upwards.
Blurred realties of gazing on the paradox of what they
Always walked towards. These two little ones so tiny
In stature but heavy in soul. One would not leave the
Others needing, to never letting each go.
Perpetually stagnant on this long road, no crossroads
To change views. But still they look up in blurred necessity.
They still want to walk in hand, sewn to each others
Path, and so they dwindle into the distance Never letting go
Each other yearning upon the others palm, just two little ones
On the path of deadwood with fields of plentiful nothing.
Distorted they look up to vacant spaces where they wish to
Be, but walk dirt roads that never end within each others hand.
