The Edge of the Coin

An object or an idea?

The actual, or the urge for more?

Desires speak for themselves.

Are we the sun, or its memories?

Satisfaction is an awkward word,

It flinches before it’s worn.

 

The body, or the hearts mind?

The image, or the pet name that slips off our tongues?

Our dust pumps hearts, and we love what glistens the sun

Our hearts are our only ones.

 

What are you?

The swift arm, or the intention

That carried an action?

Does glass break from thought – no

But design cast it with its place,

With the flinch of a finger.

Two sides of every coin,

The object or the idea,

And every coin stands on its edges.

 

Do I define myself?

Very well, I define myself.

(I am human. I contain platitudes.)

 

What are you?

What it is or what our mind pregnated the foundation with?

What the snake coiled tighter, or the rising voice as the tide alters its course?

The greatest illusion is the ones we’ve convince of  ourselves

Are you finite, or are you infinite?

We are what we know,

And we know what we’ve done,

But what our secrets hearts know

Sears through skins.

So what are you- an object or an idea?

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