day 263

I recall a general outline -
furnished by an unforgiving Rule - a thumb to press upon another thumb
and bloody sign my death upon the paper.

I imagine a particular dot -
stained by my blood - a drop from which all future words are tainted
and my canvas could never again be white.

And so we write, all about unicorns and cyborgs.
And so we dream, all about draconians and sunday school teachers.
I balance with my toes, and counter-balance with my tongue.
A fiery exchange of words and everything else shunned.

Mr YHWH called me aside - and said nothing to me.
Every word I recall, a foolish attempt to describe him.
Every phrase I string, a hasty knot I tie.
No words then are exchanged - just the honest shake of a head
and my worlds explode and nothing is left for me to salvage.

My words - His silence
I'm but a piper who plays his pipe without blowing.