Running doth have meaning
When from cold thou art fleeing
A draught of night so gray
Left to die in dismay.

In a sorrowful moment seen,
By mistake, a vision keen,
The fate so inexorable,
Etched in marble, durable

Like blood upon the village square,
Heard by many everywhere,
Phrases echoed in the days
Of oblivion’s languid haze.

‘Fore a pinnacle I stand,
A coward self with banners grand,
With pride displayed in foolish glee,
Complicating all that be.

Life so bound by cords unseen,
Strong nor long, as it hath been,
I glimpsed the joy beyond the veil,
Noticed ‘em on thy wrist so frail.

To remain silent, oh, how tough;
Yet, to speak is harder enough.

Marco Delrio

On Thy Wrist

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