Slowly creeping         

                       a water shadow slipped up the bank
                                               close to the noon of the day.
           

      Remind me of all the seconds
          

                          falling around me turning into minutes,
                                                             who would I be away?

  Is the stealth lurking of my imagination
                         idle to a whispering labyrinth of discontent?
                                                        

                      Close in behind me now,

     I have heard the rattling chains come to life
            

                And the bolt             slide stubbornly

                    to the latch as many times                                               

                             as the rippling rain opens from the sky.

     I could not be lost to an empty domain,
                                 where the melancholy sun

streaks through the windows
                                         adding hue to the dark echoes.
           

                       Everything in my home is screaming
    to be touched again,                      

      yet my words have no voice,    

                                   my hands cannot feel
    

 and solitude is hidden        

                           in the brine salty taste     of all I hold in you.

        Everlasting to Everlasting
                                I know, which time cannot take away
        

The key is in the spring
            

                                      I will move to the morrow and unlock
                all things that come anew again
                    

     Reborn in panoramic green
        

                    and violet chasten with yellow overtones
                            

                                  What sings in the voice of a sparrow?

What flourishes with

                             a single touch of grace                              

                        from God the creator?
  

  What is it to yearn in all the space           

                                    where love              once stood?

                Better yet not overwhelmed.
    As a sweet breeze lifted above the waters of heaven
        

   I am yet not left alone                    with joyful anticipation...