Saving the Dead

To carry the uneasy
towards dread, the empty
into darkness, dim the last
star in the hand's well;

sometimes the burdened
create burden like water
breeds rust or great thoughts
lead to sadness.

But there, in the depths
when trust resolves blindness
and the sleepwalker moves
without prejudice on a nail

covered floor, when pain
is shockingly obvious, the invisible
becomes clear.

The hammer of weight
and gravity aren't punishment,
the fire each one of us 
intentionally builds, the light
that hides beneath the surface

was meant to be shared.