Moonlit Sutures

The moon solemnly rests upon the foot.
Cold drywall craddles a tired back.
The darkness jumps at wherever the light has not been put.
Ask of God, if wisdom lack.

Ignorance kindles search to know.
Broken knees and broken tears fall,
words slip through the dry cracked mouth, all too steady, but none too slow.
Only to one, the voice does call.

Love is yon, yet far it seem.
By night it drift, yet sun in it gleem.

One is solemn, but never lone
Soul repairs, like stiches sown.

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