Came as a ghost,
She did,
For I falter before the ivory altar,
And sing out,
Cry out, my hollowness to God.
The ring was not set,
As the grave was never met
With many tears enough to grow
The fondest flower, from below.

I recite all I know,
I give all I can bestow
To the unforgiving might of emptiness.
My heart has never
Lashed me this way.
Tears are the infinite specks
Crawling free from their clouds,
Their homes.
The universe has knowledge I cannot command.

Just a man, whose stand
Is finite.
Just a bleeding soul, with words
That cannot ignite
Sounds to reach the Heavens,
For she cannot return.

Death is that which is natural,
Life is that which is inevitable.
The fewest words, I remember,
Come as free,
Come as a seed,
Up from the bowels of my tormenter.

Her hair, as knots,
Her form, twisted and broken,
Like the loosest strain
I could never say was gained.

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