As I take my cape

And step off the crackled canyon

I notice how clear

The world is.

You see all the dreams I could live

But not the one I see. 

Your eyes aren’t green and strained.

My supple knees carry visions

to my stained looking glass 

where I see my own facade

Color, draw, play

Set this body ablaze as your

Hands

Cup the frail flame

I’m a mess. 

Glorious and righteous pride

Separate in space

in air. I feel my lungs

Fill with water and a toxic past.

You clear me from what weighs me down.

But what holds me from my own indulges 

Are holy virtuous and victorious hands

Hands bruised and torn away.