embers of anything true to heart reveal deeper sources
if one dares to bloom through own thorns
and caress a flower of deeper crimson. bloom
through the fractured room where martyrs once danced on glass.
their silvered waltz opened a heavy flow, a heavy birth
of an ephemeron that became the Rose.
words are devoid of meaning for this Rose.
for arms that hold the Beloved.
the embrace is a spring of thousands new letters unspoken
and every new sound reflects unique beauty of forever on skin.
they dilute wild water with sighs
then drifting upon a healing wave
carry the rush of magnolias off hurt
for the ones who’ve learned the language of kiss.
too complex for syllables. too light to define.
to breathe it in is to grow
speaking only in touch
again and again and again.