The Hurry of a Hundred Many Words
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Time of vapors essence be, waves speak out of hand,
Washing over souls as we, as waves caressing sand.
Your eye my lantern lights, no distance but a star.
As I perchance encroach your breathing from afar.
A glance within your gaze delights
recognized as hand to glove;
Two souls may rise once more to share this love.
Always in the motion of the moments clinging breath
I find your essence lingering.
Rhyme as inclination to each pre-thought drawn in wreath
About your heart, caressed with gentle fingering.
A cape enclosing winters life and heart;
Passion’s promise, yet another start;
Sun of yet another broken dawn.
As love from well of hope is gentle drawn.
Yet I struggle, bonds of life before me.
Mere words, cartel of a dreary world impart.
With heart ablaze in hurry of a hundred many words
Were not the simple beating one immortal heart.
Say yes a thousand times.
Whose whisper night will linger silent now
between all syllable every ancient singer voices beckon you allow.
Touch my soul to raise me from the dead, somehow.
Copyright © vernon witmer | Year Posted 2020
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