Three Verticle Lines

Three lines mar the place of beauty,
Even in sleep.
The left and right, forever at war,
Thus flexed, build a wall between themselves
Three Vertical Lines, trenches where you hide your real face.
Forever at war with the inner, forever in intercourse with the outer.
Trenches of war that will only deepen with the years.

Smooth them now, while still in your youth.
Descend from your Ivory Tower, that proud intellectual edifice.
Mind.
Manufacturer of words.
Descend, down, down past your beautiful lips,your tongue, the delicate curve of your throat,
The mechanisms of your 2-sided (oh-so-crafty) word-craft,
Down.
Unlock the vertical bars and steal in quietly, both as guest and master of the house.
Enter into the gentler, quieter parts.
Please lay down your weapons,
Those Three Upright Lines.
And enter into the humbler parts, and rest.
Even if only for a while.

by Jason the Tenor