A tremor

Beneath the core

Of my heart

Rushes.

Dragging every spot

Of blood,

To an undefined heap of

Ash and dust.

“Scripture closes:

Ash to ash

Dust to dust”

Scattered, a heat beat

A breathe

A choke, finally

A hushed walk on

No existence;

I have but, a

Fetching hand

Unto the creator

Imploring

A sky to

Escape

"We are tired;

But

We are not beaten"

When the hope is over

A smile exists,

Ahead of a

A hidden pain