I stumble upon them
In the silkily inked night-
Stars straining through like
Candle light in caverns-
And oftentimes nurse my
Stubbed toe in whimpers.

For some revelations
It is like the dandelion in reverse,
And all the pieces I catch,
Blown to me by the cold and unrelenting wind
As I strain my short arms, - higher, higher,
Softly, gently -
Nestle into a place that has been and was and always will be for them,
As it was and has been and always will be since this
Infinite and cumbersomely graceful universe was constructed in the cosmos.
The truth flowers and blossoms into being for me.
I caress it to my chest and stare at its multifaceted simplicity,
Shielding it from the wind that bore it with trembling hands.

Other times, I feel a blow to my temple
And my sternum turns to black, glass shards that implode,
Ripping and flaying as they exit.
My ribs slip to tar, laboriously oozing down the inner constructs
Of my collapsing frame,
Until it seeps from my toenails, puddling around me.
I rest a clammy forehead in its depths,
Soothing compared to the devastation within.

My heart, marred by these,
Flutters in apprehension,
And the closeness of contact causes
An indelible, impalpable, incredible
Rhythm
Falling in with the other.

The best moments of truth
Are when warmth
Crawls like sapling ivy from
The tips of my fingers to my earlobes and calves,
Navel and frigid nose,
Thawing me from the inside out and the outside in and all at once.
Chills cascade down my spine,
Fleeing to a safer place where they always will reside within me,
But that does not matter now.
I am walking on this knowledge,
I am prancing with my heart,
I am surrounded by a melody,
I am, I am, I am.
I was wrought with a tight throat and
Choked whispers
And a courage to hope,
And the moment when I began to know and suddenly knew all at once,
Because sometimes knowledge is inherent in our very being
If we are so bold as to taste it.

It began cumbersomely,
as all things like that do.
They stumbled through the dark of her halls,
and rooms,
and doors,
only to find themselves
engulfed in identical darkness.
Until,
at last,
with a single click,
the brilliance of her face was illuminated.
But the pure passion they found themselves in
wasn't enough alone
to disguise the scenes strangeness.
She looked into his eyes.
She said she wanted it to be dark.
She said she wanted him to speak to her.
Like an angel,
comforting a forsaken soul.
Like the devil,
trying to buy a pure spirit.
Like the wind through the trees,
Whispering seasons,
Whispering Tastes of snow;
Whispering of dying leaves;
Whispering of bright sun and a lack of rain.
She said she wanted to taste his breathe,
close,
a days memories breathed in.
Seconds and centimeters from touching
whispering truths
or lies
or whatever was most wonderful
it didn't matter anymore.
She said she wanted to be immersed;
in only the purest;
and most easily remembered senses.
She said she wanted this to prove as some vigil to innocence when she looked back on it.
As some point of turning or transformation.
As a moment of clarity,
shrouded in an indescribable darkness.
She said she wanted it to start,
and so with another click
they began.