Blossom

The fibers of the soul tangle then slide through our words to form the soliloquist citrus of our love in the singing nature of the art of our natural world;
in the beauty of it all we fall into each other as the resolute solvents in this fluid stream of consciousness that unfolds into the soft air as we have affected all and ourselves;
my lost heart and cold limbs fade at the transfiguration of our newly sublime news-feed though still
hate fights hate while love loves all, and time seems to stake out in these stark last frozen days of winter,
but it’s okay,
because soon they will die like you and I and the one you have followed,
and this time,
will blossom;
our lives intertwined with elevated joy,
high above,
the lonely routines.