Salvation Flees Like Sifting Sand

through my observations fervid

the thought of what is self, compels me

am i as the earthen canvas

ever to absorb my calling

or is my state a fate of consciousness

adhering to anhedonic ends

whence does our heart hold origin

if i seek to find the truth inside 

would it not exist outside of me

without flesh stretched to keep my bones

would label fit amalgamation

is our impetus instilled 

from catching father's hastened rage

or swift sword of abandon

or mother's muted machinations

left to linger long

for what is known we are as errant

atoms auspiciously aligned

binding us to bounded prisons

never to ring freedom's bell

all i see is made of mystery unfolding

in untold shadows haunting on the darkest hour of nightfall

the fear of truths we may well find

affords us our affliction

through silent voids between my fingers

salvation flees like sifting sand

Reviews

[Lorne Blaine]

The hope for delivrance and the fear of truth were both very well-described; your words emanated angst and despair with such potency to the extent that I felt slightly disconcerted. That was a great piece.