We learned the vow by sound, not weight. Line by line. Mouth after mouth. The words still knew where they should stand. The meaning did not. The form remains. The weight is gone. We keep it moving long after meaning’s done. Still on display. Still hollowed out. We were taught to keep the cloth from dirt. Now it drags through morning mud. Hands on the rope. Eyes on the shift. No one names what it became. The form remains. The weight is gone. We keep it moving long after meaning’s done. Still on display. Still hollowed out. We read the final words in order. Heads bowed low. Eyes on the page. The last respects arrive on cue. Nothing sincere survives beneath. No one tears it down. No one has to. It wears in plain sight and stays in use. The form remains. The weight is gone. We keep it moving long after meaning’s done. Still on display. Still hollowed out. There it hangs. There it hangs. Loyalty in the wind. Integrity in the dirt. Both wearing your shoeprint.
