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