I must begin somehow,
\nsomeway, to tell you the truth.
\nThe faith I have in puddles,
\nin dirt,
\nin the air that surrounds your soul.
\nEverything I see is a hologram
\nof everything else.<\/p>\n
Everything has fingers.
\nMy eyes touch stone
\nand they are firmed with hardness.
\nThey fold me into their edges.
\nThey facet me into crystal
\nand take me as light
\ninto their veins,
\nand I give them my sea,
\nmy blood,
\nthe tidal storms
\nof a thousand moons,
\nand the rock grows with me
\nforever changed.
\nI possess the poems of ancient stars.<\/p>\n
Everything is on the counter of time,
\nand everything is a truth,
\nthe faraway call of another voice.
\nTruth is what I want for you.
\nThe knowledge of one idea,
\none small flood of water,
\nyour face shining
\nin the puddle of your dream.
\nWe are forever.
\nWe are forever,
\na form of happiness.
\nThat is the way it is,
\nmy small beloved.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I must begin somehow, someway, to tell you the truth. The faith I have in puddles, in dirt, in the air that surrounds your soul.…<\/p>\n