Falling, not fallen
She was no man’s
But a nomad
She was the comet
Finally caught
In His gravity

Her celestial body
Lured beneath
Her stellar sails
By a solar flare
Lowering anchor

She’s dancing:
Closed eyes,
Open palms ,
Vague smile

She is music;
And sound waves
Are dancing to her

And when she moves
Her clothes are naked;
And when she smiles,
My thoughts are
(words are flaking)

*

She tunes me
To her frequency
Riding waves
Pulling vibes and strings
Charting shores
Wanting replay
Asking for more

Discoloured lines,
               eligible echoes
of my needing to explain...

Unrecognizable syllables of
                       understanding
That I read upon everyday.

Ink so fresh when spelt out,
                   filtering my emotions.
Dripping down this slightly torn page.

Will I ever just put a line down this
                   repetition of unspoken
words wishing to bleed silently out.

If I write that last lyric, it will sing
                 wet upon this page.
Of sorrows voice, silently spoken, now vacant.

departure
                arrival
the climber
                 the diver
     the heat
                 the chills
     the beat
                 the thrill
         depth
                 moisture
        height
                 closure