It’s the depth of things that get me, How minute the surface is, yet we bathe in it. Seldom they glance below, But I remember being there, Living each day beneath the choppy foam. Finding peace from within, Underneath every breath.
This season, Aches my heart in pangs. More than I am able to ignore them, They ebb and grow like a heart beat. The elegant rhythm, Pulling me back. To the place where I found myself, where I see you, And feel you see me.
It’s not the loneliness anymore, It’s that piece of my soul I miss. It’s the wonder of transparent minds, Blending into a tapestry of angelic strokes. Only we can see, touch, and feel. The depths are calling from the silence, As a traveler in the noise, I long to go,