My face is
exposed
My true
face cut in marble
Hammer and
chisel
My spirit is
loose
Cut to
pieces by the wind
I am
shivering
The sacred
descends
Free from
linearity
And the hand
of time
In this
still moment
I watch the
maelstrom approach
Green with
jealousy
Thunder
and lightning
Children
wander without aim
Like small
hungry ghosts
Dreams drawn
taught, and notched
Strings of
tension holding them
Like
poisoned arrows
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