I don't know what is and whats not
apart from the dark,
where vultures are engulfing
this sepulchral heart.

Imposed by closed minds woes,
exposing mine to those I chose
as cycles of warranted throes
keep us woven
within the smudging of motion
where time froze close.

But that clock frowns down on top of me.
And it ticks its tock rhetorically.
My eyes can't rest,
they flit to attest
though settle for the solace of astronamy.

And as i gaze through the glazing,
I sink into the crystal night twighlight
quicker than the moonbeams
paint the back street pavements.
Where a sylph like silhouette
steps from the constellations consolation,
a surge of light,
near levitation,
my breath is taken.

Until nerves of a florid flush aver.
A sally of butterflies
coarse through veins in verse.
And dialated wide eyes
blurt a pious cry in yearning
and fervently search
to be found and affirmed.

Converged and confirmed.

By a locked gaze
both ways
same page
same wavelength,
two heartbeats
same cadence.
Who speaks first?
Who needs words?
When bathing in the rays of an angel
and the soul awash
with ethereal grace.
Now fate stands humbly adjacent,
awaits to be taken,
but fears took its place.


(c)Shaun.C