Never have I felt this way.
Torn apart by conflicting certainties.
Not by any means did I foresee this day,
A sterling heart pillaged and rendered speechless.

Purged of freedom I bend a knee to silence;
In worship of a cowardice tongue.
Now I lay in wait for a priestess sent to cushion my tears
And wrinkle my fears like a prune beneath the sun.

When words fail you, as they have I, like drought stricken
Crops; look no further than your heart.
Listen not for words, but to the pulsating rhythm
Of wanting to be alive. Therein lies the sought.

And In this fitting union of unorthodox souls;
Carry the torch and I'll see to it that this flame endures.