Warmth comes;
sweet honey grows feet and runs
down the velvet walls of a star lit pit.
Grandeur draws in to stillness,
the most welcoming of an abyss.
This is a comfortable silence,
broken only by a simple song:
the air’s soft hum
zipping through arms, filling lungs.
It grazes the face,
maintains its embrace.
No harm done here. Draw near.
See the edge? Peer!
Deeper. deeper still.
Fall back, fall in, look within.
12 beats, 12 beats more-
breath of God in the mouth of the sage.
It rings on, strong, long.
The bottom does not come.
How can we be sure?
No man has returned to confirm.
Lore pours from whispering tongues—
kingdom come? assured martyrdom?
Hear the note?
eternal encore.
The mouth of the ground is a door.
Subtle, sensational, missed by most.
Breathe forth.
And hold.
12 count.
12 beats more.
Δηλία 04-13-2025
