his unwashed clothes retain
their vibrant colours
'neath the streaks of dirt
he stands facing the rising sun
soaking in with rabid hunger its warm glow
pieces of sunlight through broken cloud
his fingers loose their frail grip
on his bag which tumbles to the soft earth
without a sound
it lay gathering its shadow like desperation
he utters a soft sweet single thought
into the breaking sunlight
heal that which you have left broken far too long
he cannot know if the silence greeting
his words is a denial or affirmation
bear the unbearable
speaking to the wind
he awaits answer
please
please
heal that which you have left broken for far too long
even the lowest creature
from time to time must shine
within the graces of
she walks up to him quietly as to not disturb
and begins to sing in a voice soft and low as whispered wind
to sooth his heart upon his sleeve wounded appearance
she had never seen one so close at hand
and studied his form and nature with care to detail
caressing the nature of what she beheld with her clear mind
this is the grace
this is the secret knowledge from ancient text
invisible incantation of old lore
this is the grace he seeks
heal that which...