Tip-Toe the Terminator

Shelled my amnesia.

Quenched my dirty

thoughts in mercury.

Standing sickness,

adapting with

healthy fluidity.

There's a void,

staring through

blind eyes,

who's surname

is grace.

She knows I'm there

despite my

unfamiliar presence.

No one knows

but, her reflection

is her nemesis.

Our devil as a reed in waiting.

Our sin as an invention

to preserve our soles.

Our God as the air relaxing

with removal.

Our Savior as the water forgetting the past.

Walking along the lines

of slippery rocks

as they endlessly

try to tell us the story.