Piecing together gospel from words you overheard strangers had spoke
Worth about as much as the soot at the bottom of your pockets
Simply progress in repairing the mold that you’d broke
Catching glimpses of ghosts in the corners of your perception
Went the way of fireflies in captivity
Somewhere between corporeal and ether
Toes buried in wet sand
A whisper of a rumor of an enigma
Like the jell-o you loved to squish when you were a kid,
escaping through the spaces between your fingers
And there it is again…
A house of cards at the mouth of an open window
We are all sorting through myth and legend
Desperately trying to discern between the two
Blindly practicing sorcery and medicine
Forever in a primal age of leeches and trepanation
Superstitiously applying pressure upon that which is meant to bleed…
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