this flame cries for warmth
the heart hears no beat,
a breathless whisper wails
but there is no song in the reed.
Fascinated by Your absence
as the wind is fascinated with the feather
as the air quivers around the strings
that sound the chords to which
our harmony sings.
Meaning is disappointed by words,
while words are elated with meaning,
You are both mouth and ear of this sobhet
You are the grand Puppeteer,
and this heart is Your marionette.
Do I disguise you as God, or God as you? These are the profound confusions whose resolution I pray will be the death of me. #25wtT