Life
happens inside me
As
it does inside you
instead
of pearl oysters
we
are chasing together
the
echoes
of
startled silhouettes
evicted
from memory.
Not
all birds fly south
in
winter
Not
all men tiptoe
in
the presence of God.
My
fingertips breathe,
A
soft stillness
marries
the humility
of
my prayers
as
I kneel down
on the white silk
to succumb to your visions.
Let’s
bide here,
I’ll
tell you as much or as little
You
are my south and my prayers
The
spirited pathway
leading
my footsteps
to
a golden shield.
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