Self-Portrait

Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash

Lines,
A map.

Connect the dots
to speak of my fabric
to find the perfect drop of
me.

A world weaved of
matches.

The tinder box of the spirit
writhes, yearning for one stray
Spark.

Why?
This litany of lies
that grasps at straws
can barely draw

a stick person.

A cheap forgotten thought
of the self it sought
to make.

Then
the making is unmade,
the ill-drawn image fades.

And now
nothing is in grasp
but the desperate searching gasp
of a solemn spark,
yearning to make a mark
on a cavernous Earth.