The Breath of Waiting for This Moment

The voice that calls out across the field
Calls out in beckoning, come ever closer
With fists clenched hidden at its sides
And the breath of waiting for this moment thick in its mouth
Watching the sky for signs of its reflection
Judgement for what has not yet been committed
A mind that knows only longing without release
Wrists in shackles to be loosened at the first,
Ever so slightly more at the second,
But never completely unlocked
Laughing at its own depravity and screaming in fear
At the sounds coming out of its mouth
Frankenstein’s monster lent it those hands
Reaching out to taste the world
Before the iron sky wraps around it as a tomb
And Earth swallows whole the beast it created

Photo by Brett Sayles from Pexels

7 responses to “The Breath of Waiting for This Moment”

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