Untitled

Don’t let your morning rise be set upon the setting sun
In pursuit of the bleached, marked face of the moon
As if the stars alone ruled your destiny
As if, in the swimming blackness
They form shapes for you and me
Their light, just an afterglow
From lives lived alone and far away
Though their voices still speak
From the canvas of the dark
And we hear them
They do not tell our story
We were not meant to live imbued in the absence of light
We immolate
And we disintegrate into many grains of sand
Held in each others palms
Pillars of salt
Crumble
We are not meant to encapsulate the sorrow in a single grain
But to be spread across the lips kissing the water
Washed away
A piece at a time.

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