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Where ever you are, is walking the walk of waking light,
All that is done by you, by your hands, your eyes, your mouth,
Envelopes me in the fog of your passion.
With purpose I’m crafting you a house that exists only in the beats of my heart
Except there are no rude locks, no doors, no walls
Perhaps, its openness is what contains you.
Perhaps your openness, your intrepid openness
Is what compels me,
Breathless, I discover your miracles.
A solemn whisper to them is secret, to us
Holds more wonder, more wonder, than the mystery of roses,
Whose colors expand the universes of heroes.
Heroes, they called us once,
With the ink of our breath we wrote our story,
Fantastically, in the pages of their dreams.
Thoughts fill my soul, my ever loving soul,
It contains pieces of you,
Blocks, which have built my love.
I do not know what my love looks like,
Except that, in you, it surrounds me
Only you can remember the music of my falling.
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--Submitted by Curranbt on 2012-11-07.
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