Cyclical.
Repeat and undo
remaining undone
and coming together.
One.
I can’t recoil
rolling down
The rain is torrential
as I wait undercover
of stone and concrete.
Your breath comes in plooms of airy smoke.
I reach for your hand,
your cologne tickling my nose,
bringing me back
The yelling in my ears
is drowning by wayside,
the distal faces contorted,
eyes bulging as they drift away.
I can see the golden horizon,
as I close my eyes to rest.
I can’t recall,
don’t allow myself to answer back
I won’t knock three times.
I know there’s nobody home.
This blue water,
falling gray,
tapping their fingers to a new rhythm.
Closing my eyes,
the golden horizon glows pleasantly,
peaceful as a rainbow after a storm.
Entering with eyes wide,
welcoming resounding silence.
Dawning Creations 
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