And a stain on material will fade,
And a scar on the body will lessen over time,
its indentions in and on the skin.
But in the membrane it will alter
the prints of this to The Father,
and not recognized by this human's eyes.
I loved you, baby.
God and Jesus and every angel tithing in heaven on that day,
the 11th, knew it!
And I wanted to cry in you,
--on you and all over you, baby...
Whispers of you...
Burning and it's of you!!
Unturned, not worshiped or seen but fortified.
You went before a lessened effect could pass over our time,
And in the impelling clouds overhead
our little one looks to them for the stories.
On that terrible stage, set for the 11th and in 9,
Pathways to mark that which makes the day in sync and rhyme.
In the night's grayed haze our child seeks your star's gateways.
The breath that is taken in,
is held so tight to tread these waters,
There beyond the smoked mist,
all that we know deepens.
Oh baby, my sandy lullaby,
You traced my life and I was never for it,
I simply relaxed and let you blow all that you could expel over me.
Your essence in this absence,
never more than the last salty drops that left my eyes.
In this hour when we were betrayed, lost,
you had my treasured kisses in it,
And your signature was placed,
before this shot laced goodbye.