Away at arm's length sat the window pane.
Thoughts glistened, staring into my mind's eye.
And I stared back, and whispered in hushed tones.
Nothings, noises lost to the shifting sands.

But perhaps unearthed one day we shall sit.
Hand in hand, piece by piece, we too may wilt,
but wilt together, wilt at peace, by peace.
So hush now and let us embrace the beast.

A sunbird perched softly in the bramble,
awaiting the raven's  snaggle-toothed grin.
She sang a song, haphazardly happy,
her naive concerto carried by wind.

She whistled and laughed, until sunset came.
Daylight flickered, an old forgotten flame,
and the blistering ink embraced the nooks.
Still no sign of raven, silence took hook.

But no, she's here, a whisper in shadow.
Amongst the leaves she forms a loving sigh.
"Darling Sunbird, I'm here, it's me," she coos.
In that moment, Sunbird began to cry.

Honey laced milk chocolate nestled in pearls.
Onyx woven silk in ringlets and curls.
A sideways glance and the heart's string unfurls.

A kiss, a tug, and whispered words and sighs.
An enigma, a bond in blood never dies.
A moment held dear, life's ultimate prize.

As two but one, entwined, soaring free.
A trap sprung, yet we've no intent to flee.
Jodie, I love you. But do you love me?

Let the hounds whisper in the juniper.
Dissolve your adolescence in the wind.
A detailed dawn, are you the rag and bone?
It's too late, embrace the awestruck murmurs.

Hush now sailor perched in the window pane.
Begone, begone, taste the sound of her breath.
The stark startled bookkeep will show the way.
But for now, take my hand, descend again.

I have seen the lines in the sand.
Perhaps you understand.

God in the machine, weeping,
Perhaps you understand.

A furrowed brow upon the back of my hand,
Perhaps you understand.

A final hasty sigh, unto the void creeping.
Perhaps you understand.

Do not worry Doctor.
I have seen the machine.
I know what lies in wait.

Oh Lord may I be saved.
Our grace shall come in vain.
Alas, she must be slain.
Perhaps, she'll live again.

I hear the voice of God in your whisper
Pickpocketed remorse hastily disguised
By the veil of childlike, painted glee.
Beyond this moment I truly could die.