Fading amoebas slowly drifting
A lost practice on the day of refuge
Forever entwined to a tight knit ether
A sickle and stone
A fulcrum to teeter

Ice dry on the cape of comets
Descendant of the grace of God
My heart stopped in a drag along bars

Sleep unto thy wake
Moreover what you take
Split image of hate
Tell tale signs of hope arriving late
What a site to behold
To swing from hot to cold
Sigs are for salad tossers.