the need to be heard by spoken words
has left the heart of the Hermit Poet's

now they carve sound in songs
plucked from the gentle silence

the desert can be anywhere
but it must be in the heart always

the Hermit Poet's gather in spirit
their song's a witness to their silence.

Here he lies
Barefoot and broken
We seek the sky we seek the ocean
On branded hands we face the glare
His halo thorns and battle stare
On paper pages till the strong
To weep to heaven daylight long
Force and figure in the way
Shes shattered, tattered enveloping
She reaps the garden numbing tomb
Her castlight shakes and rakes the day
Like leaves fallen in a silver hush
Snow and ice and what they took
Capitulates the falling glow
Of suns and stars and what they know
I glide like thoughts across the glass
Of minds and hearts
All fleeting fast
Within the snow beyond the pain
The roughed edge completes his game the flame to hand
And hand to flame
The long slow run of vivid veins
Has taken now my shell of shame
Beyond the depth before the blame
Her singing song like deep blue rain
And hunger in the cave with shadow

through words,
I heal my wounds
by completely exposing them