A vein in me narrows a little bit every day,
I have tethered myself to shallow promises;
strengthened my organs of clay,
and deceived them to believe
Forever is either momentary bliss or death.

But then I heard a call in the blinding dust, echoing;
I saw you assembling pieces of my skin,
meangingless, disintegrated, ignored-

And sewing them up considerately-
A new form generating in creases of cordial hands;
a miracle stitched up all together,
by a novel artist devoted to life.