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Monday, November 1, 2010

Love stat

We are the messengers

of our own fate weave.

I find my hands

are your wings forming.

Your eyes

are my tunnels’ lighted end.

We are so statues

of personality

of the effortless inner glow.

I affirm your mystery

as my inspiration.

Your voice shares me

with your soul.

Earth’s manners

will teach us

soil’s selfless joy.

And in return,

we, as one, regain.

I do not wonder

what emptiness will say.

For the emptier I am,

the fuller we are

to me.

Do not find me way.

Finding me,

means you.

That is all,

that I care . . .

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