A poem inspired by The Muse of Cold Earth.
A Command
Wash me clean with recollections of
A time long past, when things
And thoughts were simpler
Active but quiet, a fermentation point for vibrating particles
Of sand, not yet glass
Your waves crashing into my sternum like morning light breaking Juliet’s window
A curse, a canvas, a place to leave an unused bullet
A prayer that nothing will come to be.
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