days fold inward upon each other,
imploding yet exploding; incomplete and fragmented.
seen but not felt;
whirling,
raging,
but – if i am with you,
sunlight slips through the trees
and leads the dance of silhouettes across the soil.
it is golden –
like you
and your voice
uprooting doubt,
silencing the muttering leaves above.
the soul speaks
a thousand words –
yet the voice captures so little
while the rest are lost
to infinity.
even so,
i feel you;
your ebb and flow.
but when the wind dies
and the trees are still,
the last echoes of eden fade
to shadow.
the sun sets
ever so softly;
rainbow ink
spilling upward into the heavens.
cue the obsidian drapes falling over the canvas,
as lofty ideals
subside to cold repose
but the light has not left yet.
with you,
the soft pinholes in the sky open up
and the stars sigh.
Mason Lai 