God shuffled his feet
leading us back home.
We kicked the rotten apples
in our way, stepped on every
crack in the sidewalk.
He looked at the sky and said,
There are errors in this stitching,
something wrong with the way
you hold your needles.
Our only instructions said
to make it bright, and
to make the clouds tremble.
We didn’t know there
was a way to fail.
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