Greyson Sweetbrook 8
we are carved
We are carved from hard things. From edges
of steel, with eyes colder than January. And
our wood, our carefully ringed souls, carry the
marks of the pain to form something enduring
longer than the useful and chiseled marks of
anguish. Yes, if that’s believable, that is how it
is young man. There shall be pain, and their
shall be the spark by the spark in her eyes.
We shall sail on, and we shall sail on, for to
stop is to die, and to die is to forever unwraps
the dream that whispered the the answer to the
big question while you were busy loving.
We are carved from hard things, we are the
trees that endure winter to leave another spring,
to once again hoist our sails, cast our line, and
carefully watch for the response of a thing so
fair, and so elusive, it shall beat in us forever
as a second heart.