ritual rust

all that laughter
left out the intention that day

but we fit inside
the hollow tube
of our distractions

tears left out the true cleansing that day

but we fit inside
the turbulent tide
we had said we
wanted to ride

the tiny microcosm negated
the massive macrocosm
and the cosmos
shivered down fault lines
down pointed statements
about Everything Being Fine

Skeleton touch, Ritual rust
the soft, tender voice used to be a must
where have we gone
wrong
right
when did we give up the fight

Without the original ingredients
we have such limited sight

and a strange energy lingers
during every
bright starry night