Bones And Transition

Sometimes in the night a thief comes
And steals away the tiniest of things
But size is not any reflection of magnitude
It is only after the violation that there is dimension
It is only after our bones have been picked clean
That importance eviscerates our heart
That we stand in the sand and the wind blows

Depth and the for granted sets in
There is cold breathing on our bodies
We are mortified at the loss
We wonder about the complicity
Our own intelligence of trust victimizing
And our understandings are on fire
We are faint in the reality

Our we insane
Do we not notice the dimension of reality
Do our hearts require the wrecking ball
What happens after the blood letting ooze
Can there be more
Is there such a thing as reconstitution
Will the building blocks reconfigure differently