By the placement of my arm

Hello my sir,
how have you been?
I was sat here thinking about you.
Thinking, just like every other day

of how my arm would
drape your knee, hanging
as a curtain, segmenting
your room

blocking out the storms,
the lightning strikers’ pacing,
the dangers of the out doors –
protected from all –
all this by the placement of my arm.

But pause.

The thinking has stopped.
It isn’t your knee.
It isn’t my arm.
The vision replace.
The imagery no more.

So this is life, ephemeral but void –
God’s own magnificence destroyed.

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3 May Untitled

I wonder what you meant
when you liked what I said.

Actions before, like now,
back when I was in control
and knew your thoughts,
back when I knew your heart.

Or imagined that I knew.
But then again, was I ever really sure?

Oh my dear,
my captain so strong –
where was the map that led us so far?

But though the rocky high road was less
travelled – I value and remember
the scars I’ve acquired.

Learning through bruising,
colouring my faith.
Am I ready to match you, to
reach you just yet?