Jars of the life and lights broken by experience Become nigh-impossible to carry in the spectacles Of secret, of sabbath, of torment made commonplace "Never ask why" "To have and to hold" Even as a customary phrasing Is man ever the occupier, the jailer; Brown-shirted in what is alleged to be a home Behind the fences of possessive love Ravines beckon as sacraments of a dissolute God From wanting a companion to wanting no trouble Are the hands folding under the hopes broken by faith Curling to avoid any stretch toward former goals For it is the end of any distinct Her As the bearer of this Leftover Tuesday expects without giving ✍🏾 '<span query="get(title)"></span><span class="lv-live-text">Compersion</span><span type="end"></span>' 📍 <span query="get(municipality)"></span><span class="lv-live-text">New London</span><span type="end"></span>, <span query="get(province)"></span><span class="lv-live-text">CT</span><span type="end"></span>, <span query="get(sovereignty)"></span><span class="lv-live-text">US</span><span type="end"></span> ![[Child-of-Light_Mirrored.jpg##bgimg]]