your secrets melt into the waters which subside into sands.
your whispers flow onto the pavements on which feet glide
and the words create a carpet,
red with love,
read with curiosity
for delicate observers to enjoy.
your secrets sew a book of sounds upon the pavement,
and it flows and melts underneath the sidewalks,
underneath the sighs of the roads in the midst of their daydreams to be
a part of the earth,
underneath the buried treasures of human
adventures and emotions which drive on such roads.
you whisper secrets which divulge
the universal foundations,
you spoil the ending by shamelessly exploiting the building blocks
and the powers that be.
your words destroy the red curtain
and expose the makeup of the scenery,
the thousand-year history of the actors
who uncover themselves to us
dance on such wood floors,
the actors apologize:
we are you, we
dance through the spheres
and you stay in one.
There are many though we all make up one.
they smile to themselves as if to say:
you'll just have to trust us on this one.
i choose to believe this time and in my mind,
they become angels who whisper secrets in the form of
snowflakes & raindrops & smiles from strangers,
they are true to us and we feel their reminders through
hands & eyes & toes &
through what happens in our minds when we throw our heads back and look to the skies,
it is magical and it peels away the layers of disguise upon which
and through which
barricade our touch.
they are true to us,
and remind us to be faithful to our bodies, after all,
because they are the difference,
this time around.
As we dance on such wood floors
your secrets melt into the waters
and we learn to live deeper
and dive truly
underneath the waves which come and go.