The dust lingers fire

Fiber

Settles, trickles on your finger tips

Lock the limber limps of will o wisps

In limply lumbered limericks

Piano tiles and old timey tricks

Tips of swords and sucking ticks

The bloody knuckles of a

Shaking fisted, two spirited ventriloquist

The play and tale

The broken mask of the impressionist

Running sand to feel echoes of a chamber

Fiberglass prods the iris

Of a heart, descendent visitor from heaven

form heaven, Holy tigress

The shape of your chest is a cavern

Or the impress

Off a wholly sequined universe

That looks at you, impressed

Running sands of deserts

Won’t you tell us why we rain

Hit myself and ran down the

Neurons of my brain

The vision is our hand

Making love out of the same

Universe and running sands

That relinquish so much pain

**_

Deliver us, ourselves

The might that we are

The mites that we feel we are _**