graveN image.

The souvenir i wear around my neck weighs me down.

But it humbles me to obedience and awe.

I drop to my knees,shattering my ego.

The splintered past woven into a prayer mat.

I kiss the ground as I watch you below through the glass tile.

I watch you dance on hot coals as you raise your hands to pull me into your world.

I lift the poorly stitched mat over the glass pane,noticing the threads.The mat is torn sewn with fingers that seek.

I lose sight of you,knowing that I will see you again.