Belief

God is a delusion
a sweet confusion
created by men
alone in dark places
to bring comfort
when the faces
they see in their dreams
belong to strangers

I have no belief system
anymore

All the building blocks remain

I can reach out
and touch
the rough texture
of my existence

But they are lifeless things
stained and worn
stinging the thick skin
of my fingers

I pray for
blood trails in sky
an excuse or
reason

to remove my eyes
and placed them on a lonely
country road

waiting for cars

waiting for stars to explode

Waiting for the redemption
I was once promised by
the caress of all
who loved me.

We are strands
running fast through the hands
of time
colours deep and worn
born at the dawn
each thread
a story torn from eternity

We scream our relevance
to the indifference of
alive

What you are
I aspire to be

what I am
you still cannot see
or believe

Time is a thief of hope
coiling us into forgotton
bundles at its feet

And no one told me
I would thrive or survive
that was my mistaken truth
my aching brutish mantra
to cling to

 I know
you are waiting for me to release

I know
brittle is my name
and the sun is wane
on my skin

Naked in the distilled waters
of my unraveling
there is a calm
 to the cold

a balm
in holding on