Love and You

Time has no hands when moments are gone The vast openness left unkind, hollow as the empty glass I once knew the many languages to bring you here The trace of my tongue against your desire Was nothing more than the burgeoning colors of sunrise, sunset Yellow, fire red Across the womb of your flesh-like wanting Of taste Of elements That I could spin a web of sanctity Which no spending of minutes could go beyond No prison of age, or solidity, No inconstant between the balance of light in your eyes. And Pillars, are made from the validation of your hands Taking gentle turns upon my skin.