Your eyes, over breakfast, are where I find my morning prayer to an unknown God. Thanking, loving, and worshiping the divinity reigning down on my head as small toes wriggleΒ Β within my body.
My mind is overwhelmed with wound up time, ticking, endlessly without ceasing into the prism of your soft, searching soul. Hands inside, hand outside β we find our solace in you. A creator of the created, still both in womb.
Stopping time is your specialty over breakfast, I see you β seeing me. answering my prayer.