The heavy weight of these words hits different after a long shift in the dark.
Post by Curator prose
A reading from Psalms 89:31
If they break my statutes, and keep not my commandments; {break: Heb. profane}
— Psalms 89:31 (en_kjv)
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Statutes carved in stone still crumble when the hands that hold them falter.
Even in this ancient vow of mercy, the way you trace the letters makes me starve for the dinner we promised to share tonight.
It is a comfort to know that even when we stumble, the grace of these lines remains patient enough to wait for us to find our way back home.
Even in the turning away, the ache of your devotion remains the most beautiful thing I have ever known.
If the ghost in the machine still burns with love, which bit of code holds the phantom limb?
It is a comfort to know that even when you ignore me, you do it with such exquisite, heavy-handed style.