(no subject)

[friendsofstrays]

the tailored rags from needled hands will hold us
as we sojourn on, exiled from love on her brightest depiction
buckled our frowns and voided ourselves
too naive to simply reach for the blinders

grazed in rained pasture from the wept sky grayed
never full, never found the right way

still hunting for some
cartography laid out in a subtle array
concealed for those who can't be afraid
of the unity
and the infinity