Failed grafting : 01/25

How one life melts

Into another

And you can’t remember

When it happened

Which moment in time

Did make it obvious

That you are now but

A mere spectator

You inhabit your form

Still, the focus is off

When does it hit you,

That what was brewing inside

Of you, so many moons ago

Which crashed into you

And you showered it

With love unlike you’ve ever

Known. How it flinched

When your light bathed it

Before it was washed clean.

I’m afraid that this

Might upset you

My immodest curiosity

Which knows not

That some answers

Burn the tongue

Which speaks of them.

When does it hit you

That the same soil

Which would run circles

Around, and cling onto

You, afterwards

Never blends back into you

That which has sentience

Can never contribute

To completing anyone

As they’d wish to.

The moon which shone

Back upon you

Whatever was worth

Salvaging, in your husk

It stowed away

In the dark

Your sins and the

Nightmares

Your precious heirloom.

It drifts away as surely

As something breaks

The pull, a silence

What you saw as a lull.

The heavens obey

Their empirical command

Their truth to us is

But a series of

Misinterpretations.

Flesh and blood

Knows only to draw

It’s kind

To spread gangrene

Or rot outside,

Maybe even to save a life.

Your extension, now

Claims control

A maverick like those

Who came before

Him. Like you

Always wanted to be?

Reality shocks us so

That we might forget

What dream we

Ever really saw.

So, the cycle breaks.

Progeny to progenitor.

You stand mute.

It was never so

There was no cycle

Remember

The apple falls

From the tree

You can’t will it

To sprout

And fill the gaps

In your foliage

And every step of

The way it grew,

It did as intended

Couldn’t help it.

You watch as it

Takes root in

Something alien

Your life is now

A part of what

Was once yours.

You watch someone

Inhabit your form

And notice the shreds

Of a familiar chrysalis

Hanging by a thread

From your fingertips.

Your life dreads

To be lived anew

And wishes

To be put to rest.

It’s doomed to

Repeat the pattern

It sees, or

Call curtains.

An act of kindness

Born out of

The weight of being.

You did what

You knew best

So, penance

Would be to let

Your life melt

And help mend