Their words, all their words were Satan
Every thing a sin.
Call mighty triumphs
Did He give you sight?
Or tell you only words were of use?
I see now.. He cut off your hands
And now verb is something that is only
Do something, do something
You feel as though you have no way to reach
I know.. I know you do.. sometimes I feel like that too
But, your hands gracious as they are
Generous—able to touch, feel, give and take
Have forgotten that though time has a fickle mistress
Whom she fucks on the side minutes
Between hour marks, for whom does that bell toll?
Yes, yes though time does indeed carry on
As do the actions of your hands
Though they are gone..
Touch me, breathe me, let me feel
Show me, throw me, fuck me between the tolling,
Rolling bells… that may ring on the hour
Let me be that..
Let that hour be me
And if it is
I pray God will intervene in this mess
That has been created under the eyes of redness
Let him say, time stands still
Let your bell toll
Let it to me
As mine will to you
And time cannot do sin any longer
The mistress has died
Not in vain, never in vain
Only in the beauty of her pain
Of her lover loving no one else
Selfish I am not, for the power
Is not unto me, just as it is not unto you
Or the red, or the white
Only the greenish blue of an ever rotating sphere
We live by the Sun
We live by the Moon