The Cries Of Sky

Something made me and
twas never I
Twas neither my parents, though
I thought for a while
That my mother held every new
moon in her hands
That my father, the oceans and
earth
Did command, but time tells its
stories
And they, just like I, flounder and
question the skies
As they cry, but

Something made me
To be as I am
To be all the essence I yet
Dont understand
To beat red in flesh and to
crumble in bones
To die in beginnings of endings
unknown

Yet... to lay down and lay down,
to nourish an earth
To leak back the blood that was
lent in the birth

But something made me, and
Was it only black soil? What
sense then in purpose
in suffering, in toil...
Am I more than or less than
The point of it all,
For I am wretched for home and,
An end
To the fall

M Price 7/8/21