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Late night cacophony,

Two discordant voices

teasing at the seams

of my reality.


I'll find a way of letting you know
(such familiarity is fantasy)
Beyond this mere periphery,
(eyes see not the spirit)
 Past old scars,
There is love in me.
(What of its worth)
(a pedestrian word)
I will find a way for you to see,
(to fear i'll submit)
For I can't quite explain
(inarticulate as I am)
This dreamscape you fill,
(My rugged terrain)
We are bound by purpose
(infantile thoughts persist)
to the land and its people,
in a union of synergy
and I smile as I never have,
tracing your face in starlight.
(Oh the tentacle grip of my imagination)
These voices,
cast  shadows
that swallow possibility.
 Silence is pristine.