Dawning Creations

Graced me once,
it came swift.
Fingers entwined and promises spoken,
while muted knocking vibrated, reverbating on four walls.

Graced me once,
the truth embraced us both.
Solemn in our company, it came.
The weeping silence in better ecstasy,
in our embraces.

When muted knocking becomes audible, they’ll be long gone,
messengers carrying only their secrets and each other.

The weeping silence continues as we’re long gone, wrapped up in our promises, our reception of our truths, our reality.

Grace me again,
we’re agents in our own transcendence.
Glass nails can’t scratch, words can’t scorch.
Food will be not fought for,
and no empty bellows fill our nights.

I love you will never come close enough to the words I wish I could sing to you. My voice holding, my hands not cold. Perhaps someday words will encompass my mind and I could speak them to you, and have you know every word is true.