Painsmith forging with no sound, with precision.
Heated the structure and and struck to find another form.
Faces find themselves in new shapes.
The question that lingers on top of the mind this time,
is "Could something change that course with mine?"
Cut into such little pieces the image distorts.
How were the Autumn days breaking icy roadside streams?
Out of endurance, thoughts are hasting home.
As if someone was there waiting still, living of the yesterday,
whispering through the innocence we shared.
Standing without and expression is my calling card in these situations.
Faceless god sits like a stone in the cellar.
Pull the handle to make sure it sits tight.
We wouldn't want to hear it yearn once more tonight.
Keep it out of sight.