My arms are empty

My arms are empty and my chest is bare.

Where is the delicate mind ensconced in silken skin to adorn it?

To rest upon my heart. To resonate with the rhythm of it.

One moment to the next, adrift in timeless bliss.

This gift. A gift that God hath bestowed upon my bosom.

The breath of another sweet child of His against my worn and battered spirit.

A sharpening of kindred goals, hopes, and dreams.

Please God, don't take this from me.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Science and Conspiracy

Altered Carbon and the Problem of Sci-fi density

The Particular as the Enemy of the Good