Mortal and Pester

the tiny penumbra that forms on the dotted i
a wink, a sun, a pool, a ray of manta light

all these and more obscure the crescendo
when wind and bells peal through your heart

strips you of

well you have become a god now

a number embedded in the singular eye
a sink, a pun, a new way of taking flight

less the sum, the sun was warm, when still i
ran polluted through chasms to an open bay

well you have become a god now

in case of hope

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