Voices

It’s always midnightwhen you call across a sea ofrootless green the stars unfolda moment lies between a gap in breathpulsating gene of who we are. I hear your voicebut then it’s gone a whisper in theseleafless trees a memory of‘’might have been’’. It’s always midnightwhen you call: reach out for somethingunperceived could this be love? Or is it just another rhymethat’s destined to repeat? Our battered hearts areheld with twine we have no reasonto believe. It’s midnight whenyou call & for these momentsout of time we talk of love & hope,unravel the divine held immobile in therise & fall of ocean, planet, & the thought that lovehas come to find us one last timebefore we fall.