I say your name in whispers, breathlessly the letters unfold and all the while you create light that punctures shadows. Descriptive you, building visions always, deepest tones that make me ache.

Focused, fixed, engrossed, this feeling you bring, I wait in all of these rooms that you build. Rooms where flowers grow and arms embrace, I write the visions that you evoke in me. I long to continue.

Calmness you bring in abundance here. The thread unraveling inside my heart, infinite as the oceans. Its beginning is lost in tides of time, but it flows through all of these lines.

I sat with history in my palm, the outline of the titles raised text against my fingers. The spine bound without a crease and in this pause I remain. I’ve written pages of words, descriptive insights of feelings past and repetition can’t explain what I feel for you.

It wasn’t in an instant that you became the waters down the mountainside, your presence in my mind defines this. How you flow now, like mist rising, like moonlight through the woodland canopy.

You are these pages, stories that unfold when you speak, the narrator on the path between the horizon and my heart.

I thought him graceful in a time long since past. Ribbons of light etched on the horizon, his gracefulness remains. He conjures chasms painted with glacier azures.

I am bound to his words, his void filling light.