Sinking Perceptions

Sinking Perceptions

hot stone blisters hand
molten –
cast into new palm
melting skin covering –
used to be,
lines still exposed
read them,
what’s in the palmer creases?
spell out the paths; curving
threads reaching,
for the future
even after a graft

cold stone
sticks in hand
glued to skin –
do not rip too harshly
grip is sealed
no need to panic,
or pull
do not tear before time
warmth will come soon enough
heaviness held –
in the palm of a hand
stratum dissolving –
characteristics revealed
in due time

warm stone
floods hand
comfort and stillness,
arrive –
smooth and rough
tricky edges
glide against its ridges
both hands together
cup it so
rub its solid,
coarse shaped body
eyes upon the speckled worlds
hidden in its layers
palms lie flat
beneath the weight
a warm stone living complete
caressed, and seen
welding into a hand

once burdensome stone
heavy and tugging
burning and stinging
sinking the tears –
that had breath of their own,
filled with droplets of pebbles
pounding the earth,
hurting the sky’s ears
ripping in thunder
blasting with lightening,
as the stone whispered,
“Look at the sea of clouds,
in the night sky, all for you.”

sentimental stone
sank life,
into flight of a feather
gliding in the wind
catching a wave
surfing on firebolts
thumping to the rumbling
rolling surround sound
the stone tightly clinging,
masterfully unveiling
fantastic worlds
while sinking
crumbling worlds
never existing –
skipping above new ones
revealing,
opening eyes –
in the palm of a hand

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