plants grow from caskets

i ripped a rock out of the clay (soon, we too may become stone) once a fleck in an hourglass (hand-in-hand we'll stand alone) counting down our dying days (statues on a windless plane) oh, how quickly moments pass (specks of light in a windowpane) we only hold ourselves up there with God when our hands can stretch up freely through the loamy sod, we only stand on stilts or pedastals when our feet are torn through labors borne on jagged coral hills. i slipped the sock off of my foot (soon, i too may walk with you) brown and bloody, bone exposed (hand-in-hand, our words are few) wiping off the slimy soot (fingernails forced into the flesh) oh, how cold the winter grows. (desperately, with what strength is left) we only hold ourselves up there with God when our eyes can avert from the worm-eaten crops. we only hold our breath when the clouds soak up all the light and cry out loud. oh, how quickly our moments pass, oh, how quickly the grass dies away. oh, how cold the winter grows, oh, how cold is the devil's throne.