Film

I heard my voice like film
sliding down.
With no adherence or grip
it trailed, it slipped.

Still the vision was Holy,
uncouth as God things are.
Shades of gold were lined up and ready for the cut.
The mighty scissors of accurate randomness said
“No more shall be shut!”

Open doors or rectangles of luck,
how dare you yell “No looking back!”?
How dare you yell anything at all
to such weak bones holding a spirit so tall?

Yet the stone gave way
and the song shot up to the brain.
Thus, music was over,
my voice slipped away.