Eight pints,
Unseen, barring mishap or misadventure,
Life in scarlet red,
It carries our soul,
Through fibre, sinew and bone,
A human Quartz Crystal,
Keeping us ticking along,
It carries our specific blueprints,
Its force can kill us in a single heartbeat,
And drop us like a stone,
It carries our sins,
Our joys and our poisons,
And medicinal aids,
It can stop us mid-step,
In illness and infirmity,
Identifies us in our transgressions,
As essential as the air we breath,
Too easily spilt,
In foolishness,
Disgorged for faith and sovereignty,
It stains the earth beneath our feet,
The DNA of our forefathers to forever remain,
Splashed across the silver screen,
To numb our fears,
To view it with nonchalance,
To forget its there,
Until too late,
It flows away upon release,
Slipping through sodden poppy red fingers,
Heart pumping out you life,
Beat by beat,
As all stops.

Red Mallee Burl and chrome click pen. More at Bespoke Woods Facebook page

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