When left without sense.
When despair flows intense.
When love leads to ache.
To bend and break.
When the darkness stands, moves to take.
Take it all, in one sweep.
When duplicity lies deep.
Behind the shadows it sneaks.
Then there must be something of divinity.
When we can’t claim for infinity.
Glass of the most fragile, humanity.
To breathe, to live, to risk calamity.
Mind or matter, how easily it goes.
At the turn of the wind, at the intensity of the blow.
Perhaps we’re able to still.
The going of the body, the dying of the will.
To stitch the cut,
to replenish the spill.
But to heal the spirit, to undo the kill.
To fix the soul.
Tis the godliest of skills.