Be still within the desert of your heart.
Your soul whispers a middle name in muddled confusion
Parallel to the perfect storm. She'll be answered as she's
Beckoned before your pedestal. Her memory and
Countless fingers grasp survival.
Let her work, let her see you fully Allow bags and boxes to overfill.
She'll bring you closer to a version of truth. She'll hop in the car
Ready to drive between points of your screaming silence.

Shallow prints graze and leave ink stamps. Still seen in darkness. Your soul continues to stand alone. Final battles announcing the death of empty souls, nullified and torn. Retreat
Go back.
Comprehend sources of her waves fears and
Share her burden.