Some try to convince themselves,
this is the rarest of sensations
as they walk along the edges of a place
where their name is whispered by a spring
that flows love to all.
Still, we wonder
if it takes a truly perfect heart
beating softly
inside of a self-built cocoon
to be inspired,
hear the call.  

Does nightfall build the pressure felt
of those who fall
until they lower their expectations
find they are climbing mountains
hoping to catch
the silvery moon?
Is it not obvious that these hearts
will travel fearlessly
always bowing their heads
and closing their eyes,
in hope true love
will blossom soon.

I wonder if they have folded their hearts'
around an ache
no one is able to see.
Or if this is only the beginning
of recognizing myself
in their mirror.  
This rare sensation I feel
walking along the same edge
is merely erasing each step
fearlessly taken.
The silvery moon
has not....
grown any nearer.