Discovered this little piece in the notes of my phone. A while ago was it penned, with thoughts that echo, hollow. Words almost perceptible, a memory aged old. Though mere days have gone, not a single moment recalls the instant I dabbled these.
Here, I give a thought once lost but may have had some meaning…
Hold me with the word that we know
soft, and intimate,
so that our spirits may quench
the thirst for love, for life
in a land barren and cold,
where the last of the trees sigh,
it is all but end of the world,
where one more night, the moon shines
dull and silver across the simmering clothes
of water deep and thunderous,
pensive is not but the surface
where turmoils and doubts skitter like rocks cast from the shores,
the shores where life burgeon forth,
in a bloom, infinite and fragile.
The words of love so light.