There are those with whom
We are only meant to share
Silence.
He, a single bead of dew,
Aged well, yet threadbare.
Clung to the cat tongue edge of a
Green blade of grass.
She, a daughter among the olive trees
The olive in her palm
cured by the bottom of his glass.
We are all to become done
And what’s done
Is done, but
its purpose
has not passed.
Each a hair
Fell from the head
’tis silence falling
that wakes one from dreams,
instead.
These men “gone missing
From lost souls
Kissing”
Have been found
By authorities,
Beckoned from behind the veil
So they came along
Quietly, quietly
Love thirsting, flesh
and frail.
“Your soul is but a diamonds shine”
Smiled the sage,
“Abandoned by youth,
lost in dunes
And found
In the sands by age.”
Ever brilliant.
Bottom’s up.