Restless Rush

They dismantled the noise as not to be heard by the edges sharpened, restless rush.
The age was dark.

The meadow, it was dark and steady.
The answers fell off.

Fell off the restless boundary.
Light lanterned down, nudging the soul loose.
Shells, pulled.
Not everything was voiced.
Voice wasn't easy, but we were listening.

The hard air found its place while we tried to keep it here in the dew of our morning's waking.
Blood flowed quietly.
Flowers from the garden wall ascended as the light fixed upon the ground unearthed and in focus.
Sometimes it takes two to witness.
Sometimes we need to burn alone.
Finger-hulls, piano rains.
We are left wet despite of the sun.

© -Sonja J. Johnston 26-May-2013