Day Fourteen
Silence weaves with delicate needle fingers
the lips of eternity together
to protect the world from its whispers.
This loom of words, each string of sentences
used to thread together the flesh of fear
and tie up the loose ends of antiquity
making modern the mask of mystery;
giving it a grin more akin to a grimace
fighting back the suture of sin
that sealed the seventh scroll.
The world will unravel in its own calamitous coil,
we tried to piece it back together
but the piercing hook that once bound
now bends against the hardened flesh
finding it impenetrable and unyielding
even to the craftsmen that created them.
But still we keep breaking our fingers
trying to get a hold of your hearts
to breath back life into your being
and let the ruach make what once
was stone, new flesh again.