This time on earth is like walking in some timeless cemetery. Plastic to stone and prayer to providence. The path is unseen yet full of winds and bends.
 

 Plastic and Providence

I’m in exile by the wooden post
No more wings or Holy Ghost
Angels turned their backs on me
Because of frail complicity
You never answered why I was here
What wrong I did when I was there
Why have you groomed a Soul of Grief?
How could you send the Mole and Thief?
I keep returning to this spot
There is no road or open lot
Forest deep and dreary too
Why see why no flowers grew?
Spider web this sticky Fate
What's the point if I escape?
You say submit and unlearn this life
While you hold the sharpest knife
Why reveal the metaphor
And see this failure seven-score?
They cannot listen outside their head
While each is but the walking dead
Yet I'm animate again once more
Plastic as then I was before.

Ciera S. Louise c. Aug. 20-29, 2008