The Hierophant

I no more know as much I should.
Save for each mute gaze mistake,
all depths eye pairs gleam, reflect,
yet I cheer for each such fall,
and as tongues are let loose, held,
it’s not always so that truth is felt.

So my faith in orders fade.
I strongly doubt a wish would find
a way across this current, stream.
My hopes just stoop to closer times.

Because; we choose this dare or luck,
and we gift no cares past one’s shell,
because we speak but do not tell,
and letting go still leaves us stuck,
because when we're born outside a frame
the edges swell here all the same.