Shiver


Wisps of golden light



in contrast to shadow,



met by the crisp winter wind



breathe; a tangible echo to the melody.



 



A fortitude of silence



broken only by the occasional birdcall,



and the steady rhythm of the heart;



the music to my incoherent life.



 



Such majestic beauty arises from the clouds;



divine and tranquil the light-bulb to the universe,



dimming in the early twilight;



unspoken words hang detached in the air.



 



Two wandering souls magnetized by one anothers'



atmosphere--calling softly as not



to wake the others--will someday collide



and align themselves as one.



 



Outlined with the utinsal of touch,



beginnings do no harm, unless etched with



the fear of a definite ending; and perhaps,



departing with a solid promise to return again.

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