.
i had begun this story a millenia ago.

the novels so defined that even diamonds could not shape its edges any further.

mindset of winders worries,

and a heart that builds monuments upon itself.

to the ages of timber i have rested,

within the cinder of burial grounds we have fallen before.

to see the sight of death and life in so many contorting angles is to breathe the cornel from beneath the husk.

we all love,

though to love the way that we have been gifted may also become our curse.

to house the hearts of thousands within your own may prove to become infertile with each task you have peered upon.

the turmoils of hidden dreams and lusts of past lovers proves to be less than static.

white noise of saphire breezes brings forth the shadows of time.

to here i rest my soul,

to these blades i lay my being.

the smell of memories can hinder the scent of the now.

appreciate those futile moments,

the frivelous bounty of desire.

love the sound of her voice as it carries through the sails of premonition,

steer the vessel of the body within the revines of her eyes.

to you i share the utmost calibration of this life,

and the life you lead will be in the steps i have previously taken.

i have sprinkled you across the ripples of the Chesapeake,

and whispered the hynm we both hummed on those streets.



your sun shone upon me this day,

and now, my sun shall shine on me in the morrow.