As froth that intertwines itself amongst the silver weaving of needle grass,
its gloss is hinted with each brush of the wind.
The glow of dunes as soft as rose petals absorbed by the warm surface of life,
etches in pathways of time, draw with the smiles and sorrows amongst the rivets of stern concentration and steadfastness.
The pulse of rivers course thru the sinews of strength and gentleness
that cannot grasp the heels of time, but daily of memories that cherish existence.
As a green hazel turning within its lusterous walls beside its sister,
they shed enlightenment within their prismic existence.
And as with any temple that stands beyond its shadows to behold itself
of its visage is seen twice for what it is.
Even the ocean, if stilled, could not reflect all there is of such existence. The warmth of whispers flow like gentle lava from the depths,
crawling thru the chambers of emptiness and filling it with a cooling touch.
Yet in its wake a more hollow way is paved in the embrace of what is a dream
in the simmer of life fed by illusions of your beauty and an unencumbered existence of you.
