Tuesday, November 01, 2005
We have grown cold.
Withered hands raised
as skinny antennas
towards an even colder sky.

And it is at times like this,
that I bow my head
and pray for the sun –
to warm this broken back,
to breathe life
into these cracked hands.

For life lies beneath
transparent skin.
 
This template is called "shattered pieces of my soul", a modification of "The Light : The Sound". (c) 2005 Daniel Josph Xhan. Use and modify at your own discretion.