As
in-between breaths, this fortress of stars, this world of not here!
—for
the tides dissipate, if only a gesture, this moment in-between.
We
tremble with awe, the terror of ourselves, flushed in vibrations;
—for
there’s a cave, to glimpse in hindsight, as fluid as breath.
It’s
to this place, our silent noise, the magnet of souls;—for hurt is
passion,
as featured in growth, the beat of this heart; where time
morphs—into
something absent, to return through cadence. We
perish
a fraction of this universe, buried in wonders;—for to this
place—our
dreams aflame, to nurture our very essence. Its core the
language,
a gumdrop in a pond—in which are fragments—of this
brilliant
force, described in adjectives.
As
in-between breaths, this feeling of undone, as fervent as nuns!
—for
this is love, to travel through self, to excavate for sacred gems;
where
lights flicker, through the darkest caves, for realities unspoken.
We
live this world, wrapped in volts, enrapt deeply in chi; in which
is
passion, an internal halo, to capture but a glimpse. It’s sung
dearly,
even chanted by fires, this inward castle. We visit in
segments,
to feel for rapture, where much is applied; to twirl through
levels,
a stranger to a mirror, to gaze upon a petal.
