is the language of the soul.

In the stillness of the night

she creates her soul

in another to be loved,

to be made whole,

she creates You.

Her heart yearns with

longing for a warm embrace.

She will give up her place

in heaven to have, hold

and never depart.

She picks off the sour fruits

of love's labors lost,

looking on with nonchalance

as the hours of stillness softly encroaches.

To create you in her dreams,

only to meet when stillness intrudes

not able to feel you, not hold you, not love you

is not worth her breathe.

Desires of heaven is not

an aspiration of the souless,

in the stillnes of the night

living in a myriad of dreams

she creates love as written

in heaven above.

The evocative nature of living

in her dreams is not provocative.

What credence does she give to hope,

that dawn doesn't creep in

bringing with it a harsh reality,

of a still life?

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what happens at night when the only company you keep is solitude