By Davin Casey
Scribble, blind angel,
My fate is in your hands.
Your fingers feel sublime, tracing my lifeline.
I trust Time’s waning sands,
As well as your wise council.
Shivers in your fingers,
I felt you sever the first cord.
A slip of the hand, I understand.
You are, by far, still most adored.
My love for you still lingers.
That tendon has long healed,
And perfectly you etched my days.
Millennia, at last, within your grasp.
Then, without fail, I am betrayed.
My guts have been revealed.
It still remains, that scar,
But you nursed me back to life again.
All is well, although in Hell.
My features hide my faint chagrin,
For I am lost among your stars
again.
