Choas in collection.

Here- upon the cusp of knowing,
All surety feels as vague as the ascending mist,

Here- I am woken and startled,
As by a call to prayer ringing out to greet the day,

In tongues unfamiliar to us,
They cry out- alone- and somehow we understand,

Here- upon the surface of the earth,
We reside on the edge where collective desires gather,

Here- where the need to be is clouded,
By the fear of not being, He will hold fast and sure.

The Book

I still recall those late evenings alone-
bathed in the dim light of an old lamp,
in silence except for the occasional passing car
I'd lay on the bed with a book... the book.
"I don't want to give you back"
I'd think, feeling an emptiness at the very idea.
The touch of it's yellowed pages to my fingertips...
the light, erotic scent of perfume that lingered between them-
peaches and creme... it overwhelmed my senses
and it dances in my mind to this very day.
"I know you- and I understand you"
but you were no longer here... I wanted to be the same...
or at least to be known by you.