We are sweeping dust off
our live's now with our bodies.
We are tethering our vast emotions to the boats of life.
We slow our walk to the threshold of ecstasy.
Sweet surrender, that breaks empires, that opens the dusty doors of archives for the winds to move ancient texts.
How does a kiss alter the world.
How does a hug wake the lion of loyalty in us all,
while the stone crypts crumble,
And buildings made of mortar weep with indifferent ghosts.
We are born to a dying sun,
as we dream to a rising moon.
Our existence is arbitrated by a rhythm.
Our bodies, altars for the numen's passion.
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