Melodies and tangents could not contain,
The drips and draws of which pertain,
Sweet dreams have graced the horizon skies,
Turned trouble behind, creating soft lullabies.

Hills of words and undone verbs,
Graze the tips and hips of birds.

To the Universe it seems -- minuscule.
To put the phrases in their proper places,
and to find light where dark has surpassed.

this
           is
                  all
                         a
                                      blur
                                                  to
                                                               me.

To which eyes acquire my light,
To see the soul and flesh ignite.
(whilst he'll softly whisper "I thought about you all night")

--