whatever this
as lives between
depths beyond the dark
some distance
undecided by a word
a heart
without memory
but fearful still
of touch
trembles at the thought
of prying fingers

silence now
the sweet erase
of breath
where breath is gone
succumb to praise
emptied of goodbye
a psalm
we never sang
blessed recognition
was here
we knew the first
of love
enough

for nothing
waits to fill the void
with graces –
yet unspoken
blue beyond
where sighs
are come
to wing

. . .

author’s note: sometimes the will to sleep exceeds my reach. fingers
fumble in the darkness – becoming wings – a pen greedy for release

. . .