like a threaded needle
weaving through time
there are patterns on my heart
where you once paused
chanting your souls rhyme
this rhythm now moves me
for the veil of time
alludes separation
dense with ignorance
I fail to feel the involution
of truth, through desires longing
an evolution of acceptance
as a sacred pulse transcends
penetrating form
there are times I sink into my own abyss. . .encased in the craftiness of my creations . . .the slippery slope toward stripping away time.