crevices

you cup your hands
when Mysteries rain down.
let's play detective
before they run away
slipping through your fingers
and giving way to gravity

falling upon a
cracked and chipped stone
they found home
in the crevices of "Rest,
in Peace."

so uncup your hands
when Mysteries run down
because they'll solve themselves

I was not Slayer
nor Saint
pass this stone,
you will not find my name

I like it. At times it seemed a little awkward, but nothing that a few simple corrections wouldn't fix. In the first stanza, did you mean "giving way to gravity?" And in the last stanza, I think the "and" seems a little out of place, you might want to try another conjunction. Apart from that, great work!

Thanks Liz! I fixed the changes...sounds better now.

Great. Me likes.
Maybe it's the style, but I think you need periods in a couple places. Particularly at the very end. But overall, beautiful.

I have to admit, I have no idea what you're talking about really... I thought I got it until that last line, but then it sort of threw me... But I liked it.

It's about people who die with no name (figuratively speaking). I have a hard time with including the definition or the point in my poems. And when I do, it breaks up the flow. But in a way, sometimes I like to leave the reader wondering.