NaPoWriMo 10

And when the end arrived it
gave up the ghost in the machine
not for change only to start

another round earn endless lives
but this sponge at the end
of a branch barely reaching

the thirsty throat which calls
us from behind the stone
into the solemn wine-dark air

why forget since to forget is
to sin only the blood makes
the thorns free in their grasp

of love that commits to the end
knowing that in our beginning
there is no end only love in breath

you breathe in and out again