Failed grafting : 01/25
How one life melts
Into another
And you can’t remember
When it happened
Which moment in time
Did make it obvious
That you are now but
A mere spectator
You inhabit your form
Still, the focus is off
When does it hit you,
That what was brewing inside
Of you, so many moons ago
Which crashed into you
And you showered it
With love unlike you’ve ever
Known. How it flinched
When your light bathed it
Before it was washed clean.
I’m afraid that this
Might upset you
My immodest curiosity
Which knows not
That some answers
Burn the tongue
Which speaks of them.
When does it hit you
That the same soil
Which would run circles
Around, and cling onto
You, afterwards
Never blends back into you
That which has sentience
Can never contribute
To completing anyone
As they’d wish to.
The moon which shone
Back upon you
Whatever was worth
Salvaging, in your husk
It stowed away
In the dark
Your sins and the
Nightmares
Your precious heirloom.
It drifts away as surely
As something breaks
The pull, a silence
What you saw as a lull.
The heavens obey
Their empirical command
Their truth to us is
But a series of
Misinterpretations.
Flesh and blood
Knows only to draw
It’s kind
To spread gangrene
Or rot outside,
Maybe even to save a life.
Your extension, now
Claims control
A maverick like those
Who came before
Him. Like you
Always wanted to be?
Reality shocks us so
That we might forget
What dream we
Ever really saw.
So, the cycle breaks.
Progeny to progenitor.
You stand mute.
It was never so
There was no cycle
Remember
The apple falls
From the tree
You can’t will it
To sprout
And fill the gaps
In your foliage
And every step of
The way it grew,
It did as intended
Couldn’t help it.
You watch as it
Takes root in
Something alien
Your life is now
A part of what
Was once yours.
You watch someone
Inhabit your form
And notice the shreds
Of a familiar chrysalis
Hanging by a thread
From your fingertips.
Your life dreads
To be lived anew
And wishes
To be put to rest.
It’s doomed to
Repeat the pattern
It sees, or
Call curtains.
An act of kindness
Born out of
The weight of being.
You did what
You knew best
So, penance
Would be to let
Your life melt
And help mend
What was yours.
