Sense how
Even the smooth stones ache
With stories of their own
In the shuddering light of day.

Nothing that truly matters
Can ever evaporate,
Be excised,
Burnt out of your soul.

Here, illuminated at last,
Nestles the ruddy glint of spiritual certainty;
Sweet moments of passion and healing,
Of sensual release.

The gilded spiral
Of longings within.
Our very own cathedral
That points persistently to heaven.

A stream of primal voices
Whispering in the breeze of your heart
To urge you on.

I am just like you,
Destined to play my part.
And leave,
In the nature of my departure at least,
Some kind of sweet message behind
In the fathomless pattern I make.