You came
silent dawn
shifting skies,
unseen yet profound.

Your stillness,
gravity pulling
worlds closer,
I leaned,
without fear.

Edges held me,
shadows whispered,
light born
from effortless grace.

Our words
glances
pauses
a secret tongue,
heartbeats echoing
beyond knowing.

Your path,
vast horizons,
steps I can’t claim
yet I honor
every breath
alongside you.

Not for union,
but for presence,
for change
air transformed
because you existed

Sideways glances perpetrate reality
The disgraced populace slumbers
Sleepwalking past their own realities
Imaginary friends come to say hello
An endless hallway of shuttered windows lies haunted
Static memories live in the cracked cranium, sanctuary set ablaze...
Broken mirror shards litter the ***** floor
Shuddered oxygen, gasping at breaths as the ghost pass on through
An omniscient breeze travels from the eastern seas
Darkness reigns from the sidewalk cracks, where the spiders play (prey)

A chromatic disarray of wires snake about
Technical damnation, suffer the masses under finite electrocution
Digital guillotine, the noose only grows tighter
Eyes gone black, collosal octopus dragging me asunder, black hole of ink
Lungs burning on the caustic pandemonium
Seizing, coughing, suffering; this world is fit for a straightjacket
A welcomed embrace back to the dark side

I crave the days
when frost kisses my toes through my boots
and the few leaves left on trees
flutter down to
crunch, deliciously,
under my feet.

I miss the memories of
leaning into the wind,
letting it fill the gaps in my coat and
thinking, just maybe, I could fly.

Hot sips of drinks
between my lips,
filling my throat and lungs
with a warmth irreplaceable.

A season of change, but of calming
of settling into ones skin
metamorphosis and yet
simple enjoyment
of all the little things.

Her laughter — is a Miracle —
without an Altar — mine —
A Sun that casts its Blessing —
yet never will incline —

I watch — and Faith unravels —
beneath her holy Glow —
For not my rose — the blossom —
her tender hands bestow —

I walk — as wand’ring Pilgrim —
no Compass — and no Claim —
beholding from a distance —
the Heart I cannot name —