What Lies Here

What hope lies here
In my cupped hands?

A liquid ultimatum
Integral drops that glisten
Requiems of a morning glow,
Tides that have turned to
Windows of silver,
Laced sliver of moon
Peaking behind flushed clouds.
A stars death
Shining far past its last breath,
Beckoning conjecture,
In weaving impossibility

What faith lies here
In my cupped hands?

Weathered imminence
Origin that reaches into belief.
Sight filled shifts
That corroborates an intention,
Music unheard by the ear
Rings to a beat wholly internal.
A patient view
Wrung  out and displayed –
Is it real because we see?
Or do we see because we believe?
Arms of essence,
My Father,
Healer,
Maker,
Restorer.
Savior!


What knowledge lies here
In my cupped hands?

Personas,
Fled into the night
Jars of being held clasped,
Aching for air so that life would resume.
Dignified action
Swept through with kindness.
Humility
Humanity
Lullabies weeping with floods
The rise,
The fall,
Restoration of conceptual spirit.
Red unearthed in the hopes for gain.
Me
You,
Us!

What doesn’t lie here
In our cupped hands?