however many hours i lay waste
i come upon the moment that salvages the redundant disregard.
i come about.
i assume the stature of an eye in a field of color...
sacrosanct and devoted to the never-ending spiral
of a perfect thing.

i cannot suture the forbidden
but i can usher the warm delirium
of a fresh hearth.
all the bonny winds of leaving
that keep you in your
place.

alive.

and no other thing outside me...

save the night.