and for every peephole
there should be a finger on the other side.
and for every finger there should be
a celestial arch to poke through to reach out to God.
and God wants the crying heart.
and for the carnal labyrinth of the heart
there should be always a wandering soul roaming inside.
and for the wandering soul there should a hope, —
yet the hope should be lost.
and for the dismal, there is an eternal fire
of the burning bush, only for those who’s paying attention.
and for those who wants to see, there should be
a peephole to look.
and a handkerchief in the pocket should be ready,
to wipe the tears.
and for the tears, there is a rust
and for the rust, there is no time.