Tap tap.

Straining and sweating
we push
against each other
we grow old
in hatred and
in despair

Echoes insufficient
except to remind us
that nothing exists
but our very
own breaths

Moving in and
moving out –
side are the
sounds of chaos
or of freedom

From this prison
made of
words formed by
an attempt to
touch the gates
of heaven, itself

Dark wall-tappings
in quick succession
make morse code
a message of
ess, oh, ess

Save our souls.

© 2008 Alex Stageman