the waters glistened
with timely fervor
the silence between two
an enduring reservoir,
of reaping truths
Your voice soon begins to crescendo
I fall too,
into a deep
but sacred sleep.
lilacs bloom in the middle of August their timing washes us with sinews of mountains we seek, it is in this time that gardens, too whisk dawn from the dust we sweep.
I was equivocating in days prior following the holy martyrs who had wept in times before me
the mission of unearthing self brought a sensible irony within
Inked were my words into the air of yours.