Something never before
felt nor seen.
The weight of which
crumpled your knees
with what's supposed to be;
a week's wage of woe levied by tax.
Eyes opened to the decree:
close enough to touch
but not to hold.
Paid in tears--
salt etched the stone--
of two minds,
hard-headed each
for love and logic.
Blind justice
awaiting a life sentence
of work,
or the worse,
disregard.
In which case we can only
burn the book
of us.
