Submitted Date 08/05/2022

How shall I find your heart's keyway?
not trusting my eyes, I have traversed long
feeling here and far as one who is blind
I have only found this featureless shell
like an egg laid by an iron sparrow
I hear your voice calling to me from within
and though I strain at the sound
it is too small for the hearing of words
so I imagine the words as sweet things
but I know that adoration plugs my ears
your silvered voice tolls the pain I shared
sorrow borne as real as royal monuments
and though I chip, chip away at it I fear
the deathless eons of my labor
for though I swing mightily and true
the chisel is but small.
still, I do.

Brady S BowenI like pretty words.


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