Christ a poet

Before the me-game came to make insane
There was you, two ways made same, laid in lines to collide, drive
Not to divide, make asides, astride in competitive races
You now, the opponent, you set me in mind, the kind of conception that’s about sides
You’re making for the line, to finish before, to draw it between us as permanent
We two, twined, tangled, twisted into unity, fashioned, forged, framed
Trimmed, primed to prose-like praise of the thing marked as Divinely formed
Strings thronged together, with
beads that are seeds of our love
Deeds of eyes that meet, that sit on seats stitched by sacrifice sweet, swiftly inspired
Ignited as fire, aflame, glowing brightly for us to see, to enjoy, to be warmed by
They’re doused, by aroused rains seeded by clouds of discord
They’re gone, done away with, replaced by gaping spaces and frowning faces
And by ambitious, broken…

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