Like Ink

Tectonic valleys

Weave their way

Down dark murky alleys

Out of the fray

Into the celeste

Up and out

A new sun swings

From the gentle gecko’s nest

Shifty foundations

Change ways and mark days

Search for nothing

Except for the empty space

That occupies these bones

And their soundless rhythm

A prayer aimlessly confessed

Like the pitter-patter

Of the curious gecko

Who never rests

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