Tuesday Poetry ~ Untitled Project

When Somebody close to you dies, one feels a great hole in their absence.

Were everything to remain the same, the order rendered static by the memory left behind,

it would quickly become neutralized into nostalgic nuisance, lost of any changeable power.

The possession left behind bend personal desire, want and entitlements.

Political posturing & claims of spoken arrangements,

Promises made among Nuns, Thieves, and Saints.

Yet at the altar they proclaimed no personal desire for earthly belonging & material possessions,

relinquishing them up unto heaven for eternal reward in the everlasting.

Forfeiting this world to the inevitable.

The Last shall be First, and the First shall be Last.

And yet the Truth was widely known by all, even though the secret remained unspoken, and their tongues remained silent.

Feigned courtesies & Foreign Affairs Reign outside our door.

It is a global war of possession, for the materiality of production.

Sand is on fire & so is the Cross.

Born Baby Burn while an abortion clinic under fire has three crosses burning on the Midnight Oil Grass.

She had written Her Name on the paper, in the book, and signed Her Will.

Did anyone stop to ask if She had a right to possession of One’s body,

to Her God given humanity already sacrificed,

to Her inherited property already earned,

Her security & dignity already paid tenfold?

Beloved pricked her finger & broke her skin on a crown of thorns of an unbroken rose.

It was not its color that drew her attention, nor the promise of a soft touch,

But the unknowing nature of the bud.

A state of untold future.

Destiny & Fortune.

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