The Oil Yo My Gears

If I could, I'd oil my ancient fingers

And watch the rusty gears begin to turn.

Praying that your blue-eyed gaze still lingers,

I would cause the heart of the earth to churn.

 

I'd shatter the ice of bleak detachment

And extinguish the flames of hatred.

When I'd die, they'd grace me with a hatchment,

For the earth is, once again, sacred.

 

But first, I would stare into the mirror

And drop to my knees as I slit my chest.

Cleansing my heart, I'd see a bit clearer

So I could fight ceaselessly without rest.

 

If I could, I'd change the world in one stride.

But I pray that you're right there by my side. 

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