Walkin on Air
Life death bequeathed an extension:
drip-drop, drip-drop, drip-drop, drip…
swimming sweltering sweat pearls swiping
from knouted lashes:
acid on tender skin for skin.
Perhaps was it predestined?
Perhaps was it chance?
Perhaps was it organized chaos?
Perhaps was it a dance?
A dance macabre to bring on light;
would be sacrifice
turning midday to night:
space-time duality // infinite singularity…
Who'd dare have presumed
when the body was exhumed
Joseph's sarcophagus was bare?
There was no one there!