Ink and vines climb down our spines
Silence–
I wait.
To be touched by sound, and felt by feeling
With hands guided by breath and meaning
Hands shaped to bend someone’s mind,
To a mold not made, but known,
before they knew my own
Forge my breath, reach closely inside
Listen–
Hidden hills and valleys await our song
The writing on the wall spells,
“There is no god.”
Sensation can be both a distraction and a guide
Do you remember the words the sea spoke?
Don’t ask me.
“Take a look inside.”
Feb 23
Feb 23, 2026 at 8:15 AM UTC
Ink and vines climb down our spines
Silence–
I wait.
To be touched by sound, and felt by feeling
With hands guided by breath and meaning
Hands shaped to bend someone’s mind,
To a mold not made, but known,
before they knew my own
Forge my breath, reach closely inside
Listen–
Hidden hills and valleys await our song
The writing on the wall spells,
“There is no god.”
Sensation can be both a distraction and a guide
Do you remember the words the sea spoke?
Don’t ask me.
“Take a look inside.”
