When I met you, I was blind. I had traded one eye with my devil to see the golden seed of my soul, And I had lost the other eye while wrestling with my demons, wresting the treasure from them. Seed in hand, I was stranded from reality in the twilight of my dreams. Reflected from love shining far…
If I am a smith, you are the fireworks waking my furnace.
If I am words, you are the white silence embracing ink drops, giving them meaning from black chaos.
Letters find their place on the page like footsteps along a virgin shore. At first, slow, wandering paces, then breaking