The shape of a heart isn't the
edges, its what collects inside.
memories of what was enlightening
brightening the darkest of times.

A singular touch, weakening the
sorrow, forefeeling the pieces that
were needing a loving touch.

Past collections that mend every
pain that was in my past.
You mould my heart...

I cant imitate the sensitivity that
your recreate with a loving touch,
But you words fill up the corners of
a heart that absorbs your every word of love.

Don't you think it's funny how,
My skin turns blue after the shock of your eye,
How my teeth crack forefeeling an explosion,
But my mouth stays shut,
Right after yours has opened for ever.

Rehearsal That’s Not
Rehearsal concerting,
Arranging submerge
All doubts converting,
Ascension from gorge,

From then prophesying –
Of Future forget! –
By presence past rising
Is where they met!..

Rehearse preparation –
In it find excuse
To joyfully mention
All daring abuse

That leads to the growth
From dumping unlevered:
Enforcing is loath
Forever and ever!..

Demand and embarking
In vigorous sail,
Make forefeeling sparkling
In jaws of the whale,

And spit on the shore,
Find ministry’s Vine –
Rehearsing the Score
That’s not yours or mine!..