The Memory of Shapes

Sitting there – doing nothing

Bound by inaction, 

Bathed in action

 

Honeyed syrup of melted love

Or spit-flecked untapped anger; 

They bask or burn in these energies

 

Wherein are they loved or hurt?

They know not, see not, hear not,

But by their very touch are these called witness

 

Hostage to the whimsies, the swerving values,

Brick, wood and glass resonate

For as much as they are holden 

 

Spiritless entities, wordless lumps 

Ghosted neutral vessels in situ –

Careful around them

 

Care and caution,

For the memory of shapes 

Has you for their existance