spiegel im spiegel

Our crosses are broken,
Our chops are well busted,
but the Lord strikes the keys
and plays a melody.

My head thinks its funny
to play pranks on my heart,
which loses its temper
and throws a glass on the floor
which shatters into a thousand regrets,
but the Lord strikes the keys
and plays a melody.

Our nations are dens of knaves.
To the dogs, our fathers, they gave.
We are being replaced.
The arches bear weight no more,
but the Lord strikes the keys,
and plays a melody.

Atlas retires with a broken back.
Disc herniation at L5-S1.
Spinal Osteoarthritis.
A knot at the nape of his neck,
a crick in his jaw,
but the Lord strikes the keys,
and plays a melody.

My grandmother’s birthday was today.
For every year gained,
five pounds are lost.
Not enough strength to open
the peanut butter jar,
but the Lord strikes the keys
and plays a melody.

The West crumbles.
I fight writer’s block.
Imposters of each other.
But if you listen,
you clearly hear

the Lord striking the keys,
and playing a melody.

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