In my nebulous shadow
I hold the map of our world
Hands reposed on my knees
Each country shaped with my own eyes
Time slipping beneath the void
Life measured with my ruler
The internal static consumes me
I hold the map of our life
Walls closing in with each heart beat
Every person carved through my own thought
It is cold and barren glazed over with a warm sunset
And so… each desire satisfied with the tips of my fingers

By B. L. Crisp