Watching closely as the day comes to an end
I know this illusion holds a promise that defies dimensions
but I keep trying to hold it down
I scarcely believe it when goodness is spilling out all over.
how do you let go when the same is holding onto you?
how do you articulate what has already been alliterated?
this sentence might ruin it, these rains might wash it into memory
for how many seconds does perfection last?
if only I saw the trivial in the light of the critical
and if the longing was drawn with your hands
you would touch me and stop the indecision.
what can separate too good to be true
from the roots of love that surpasses all reasoning?
force my eyes to see it, before I give up.
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