PILATE'S HANDWASHERS

It would be good to extend our arms towards each other a little more nobly, more dignifiedly, so that we can guard the silence that longs to open in each other; halfway between the stigmata of bodies, to touch the slaps that have become unworthy, the petty formations of bandages and scars. Because the surprised Being betrays its own hidden Apocryphal essences, its calculating secrets, at almost every age. 

We do not know where the budding love morning flees from us with its broken wings, when everything still seems so clear and simple. Sooner or later �" we do not even notice it �" the innocent, orphaned child in us always denies itself first, and only later the adult who seems absolute, presenting himself as a victim. Because when evil, manipulative, calculating things and connections arise above our heads, it is as if others were already writing the rules of our Fate for us. 

�" Conscience �" no matter how much we want it �" now only protects us formally, like most of the official but burnable documents that the historical era has entrusted to us as witnesses. Even now, it seems that slimy, sticky dirt and secretions stick to it from hand to hand; so wash your useless, crusty hands with baby soap several times; do not accept easily received alms! All thieves, idle jerks and fools, Pilate's hand-washers of compromises, who sold themselves with a calm heart, because they knew that otherwise, those who got stuck here could not prevail.

Reviews

[Tasi83]

Dear Evelyn! Thanks for reading may poem! Have a nice day!

[Evelyn Cove]

Hi,
I read your story and really liked it. Great job!
A book cover idea came to mind that I’d love to share with you.
You can add me on Discord (evelyn.7860) so I can send you the concept and show you my portfolio as well.