A Net Works Failure

Has anyone, in all their words,

prayed to save the morning star?

If the highest and lowest must meet in the end

Why do we cleave them in two?

If you love me, I cannot feel it

in the words you share with me

Fickle thoughts and gossamer vows

Too easily dispensed

What is done is done and can't be void

So love me if you would

But words without breath is just so much noise

No embracing a ghost of a friend

So why do I write them, so fervent and red?

Why must I bring them to page?

Redeeming the failure of gods highest child?

Or tangled dissociative slave?

Oh camel, oh lion, oh babbling child

What was done, what was lost, what remains?

Ah yes,

but the sharpest sword

is still a sword

and all it can do is cut