that machine

March 1, 2009
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That machine: its skills honed in
over generations,
its goal only to force life throughout a being.
Careful, complex architecture devoid of choice,
beautiful orchestration of valves and vessels,
with its constant reminder of persistence '
Thump, thump.

However perfect,
the chill of unrequited feelings
leaves that organ numbed
for protection,
left to dwell under lock and key
in a cage of bone and muscle.

So while it lays dormant
a world is held on pause
with the force of an icy grip:
not growing, not changing '
Life merely stands still.
Blank stares at a stark landscape '

Time passes, and suddenly
her voice fills the void
with warmth like windows-down sun on your face.
Life thaws, tides change.
Minds change.
The valiant shoots of immature green
push past frigid earth: from dark
to light.

The chill of the longest season
With each burst of melodic laughter,
the ice cracks and her lungs swell.
With a flourish of butterfly wings
her decision is made.

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