To Spiraling Smoke of Silence

In the silence of its hanging tomb, the stalwart heart continues to beat its rhythms of love’s symphony; Starving head-lobes devour soundless ringing, infusing vibrating bloating as pangs of hunger does an empty belly; Silence void of serenity is as useless as space void of any cosmic purpose; what worth is there in vacuous existence? Smoke that has lost its self from its fire need not be an aimless wanderer; at its source await the warm embers thereof; Though self-sustaining, love, true to its self, remains self-sustaining, but humbles its self with the need for external combustions: May the flintstones of our hearts once again rub shoulder to shoulder reigniting the sparking echoes of our love fire.