Harrowed by this most singular form, we are a Coalescence of two
Pedals in cathedral stained glass windows In glorious form And resting on tables Placed seemingly, unassumingly Placed in insurmountable space Seen by seers and filled by philosophers, Nonetheless echoing through cavernous halls
Patterned textures of a Parisian tablecloth in my hand While my other holds yours in its softness Recusing sonneteers’ burdens, Varied recollections of a ringing sound Excusing intelligent ponderings, Echoes of faltering and exaltation
With a kiss, we speak soundly Amplifying what we’ve heard all our lives, But its crimson is of our origination To be heard once by us and hence, Echoed to be heard throughout