An Orbit
An Orbit since the blender caught the heart.
No pieces left to glue, just pulsating primordial goo.
Still, blood flows at the beat of hope.
Cursed by the thoughts it feeds the mind.
A Rotation of this planet without inception,
Phenomena deserving parades.
The continuous bullwhip of rumination fades.
Sporadic stabs now dwell in songs and scenes.
The length of despair, the blame is on me.
A requisite to invoke elaborate fantasy.
Futures fabricated, choreographed to the song of us.
Materials a ruse, made of glass and fear.
Shattered from the boulders we threw.
All that remains in this rubble of love, are reflections of me.
Roll in the shards, make sure they stick.
Each fragment, a lesson in the form of riddles.
They have just taken some time to solve.
Copyright © shea lutz | Year Posted 2026
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