They led me to a chamber where
I heard you would be found,
and I returned shuddering and
baulking from the hall of mirrors

I hear your whispers walking with me
in the valley of flowers as in
the mirage-riddled path to the oasis

But fragrant pathways lead nowhere,
empty the nights of adoration

Dry of the sap of zest, barks that uphold
the canopies of our lives under the stars
And we hang paper flowers from them

where? when my call echoes in the winds,
you came and sat by my side, your warmth
entered in my soul. When I cast my blinds,
I find the world a hall of mirrors

Reading,
         Reading you,
Reading me:
Symphonic emotional intelligence,
Words like a violinist.
    I carry them with me
Inside my mind applying reality,
       The unreality passsing out of me.
The poems speak like see through natures,
The clarity of my discombobulation.
      You all become real.

   Archives of the souls
    Instantaneous connection
        Closer than
Touch:
Your words resonance with every
Fiber of my being.
    Your words
Invent more words,
    Your emotions tie
The world's shoestrings,
    The experience shared
Is a reality of musical theatre
    And it kills the silence,
The silence of the mind.
     Your words are movement,
Be it from a past,
     The metaphysical dance,
A kiss of gentle air,
    The idea is a life living
Recovering from the enigmatic plague
Of ignorance.
    Though I see the bird sing
My heart stops when it I hear it
Through your words;
    Connectivity.
Reading is not reading,
    It is saying what your silence says,
Art becoming life in an echo of YOU.
       The words that I understand:
Yes, the pain is also a gesture of reality,
     It lets us know it was real,
Your tears,
      Your secrets,
           The murmured past,
And as I read it becomes as the
Sun on morning dew.
   Beginnings,
Endings,
    You become apart of me,
I become part of you,
      Not words
But music in the silence.
And the moment will come
When you hear it too:

The poetry:
Crystalline humanity.