A World Made

There are never enough
stretched moments
to cover my naked love
To clothe
To map the contours
Of possibility

constrained by blueprints
to life fulfilled
to boys meeting girls
to bells ringing
and seeded rice dreams
of forever

holds its secret irony
sitting messily
outside boundaries
A beggar of questions
one, two, how many lifetimes
Promises hopelessly flawed

Because time is false
It presents as a path
a golden thread leading
out of the darkness
When truly it is a heap
Of jumbled moments and unmade choices

Opens and closes
Each new universe
So when I choose you
Amidst every other held fork
I create from blood and ripped tears
A world made of you, of me

of us
Of time

Leave a comment

Add comment