Reliquary – A.P. Christopher (constant Variable)

In the wake of what we plan
Where nothing grows and nothing can
And all the acres left between us
Span the world and what they mean was
Every tiny piece of worth we feared to ever feel was left to die

Slow and slim – a sallow crest
And labored lungs in hollowed chest
That uttered something named redemption
In a world too dark to mention
Speaking still of here and now and there and then but never you or I

Or the words we thus divorce
With tilted heads and missing force
That slip between the vacant chances
That we claimed were circumstances
Moving with a wind that we could never hope to change unless we try

Something more than grains of care
And guarantees of “I’ll be there”
For what we mean, we say a fraction
Calling love an old attraction
Resting on a lonely road where stoically we just pretend it didn’t hurt to know we passed it by

for more at ‘constant Variable’, click here:

Published by grumpygorman

I am a Social Worker by day and an artist/writer by night. I use the written word in an attempt to make sense of the secret worlds and dysfunctional dynamics that lurk beneath the facades of our daily interactions. I am not sure how my writing styles are characterized, nor am I overly concerned about it. I am immensely enthusiastic about music and often connect better with songs than I do people. I also have an intense appreciation for quality wines and whiskies, frequently consuming them in excess. I like things that smell good and struggle to manage the symptoms of a life-long relationship with depression. So, why "grumpygorman"? Spend some time here and find out...

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