night fog
Within the scalped heart, he filled in sand.
He felt an ache; facing the sandhills with the weight at hand.
Brushing it off, he left,
And so did the blood-filled trails beneath.
Climbing up the stage, his ache intensified.
But with it and the audience nearby,
The ache mostly died.
They applauded when it took the weight
From his hand
And he, his smile heightened;
Seeing the audience so grand.
Backstage, one attendee, not he, gifted another heart to it,
Not scalped, not weighted with sand.
Instead, small, brisk, and energized.
It took it merrily
But without the audience,
His smile shrank, until its hands were devoid of his gift.
The energy was no more
And all what was left was the sand from before.
ionic talon
pale panther
hot spruce