The ink on this page is lifeless

What is alive 
is in my darkness, and its hunger.

i write with my darkness 
hungering for light

Words come into existence 
from a longing to follow the sun.....

a Sun
that rises in the solitary skies of my silence....
a silence i've always been  following obediently.

A silence for angels to come
and dance to its music.

A silence overlooking the bounds of the mind, 
yet, there,
in the very core of daily life
where
thoughts break
into wings of feelings
flying
to find for itself an unnamed world.

Writing is the narration
experiencing the journey.

The events taking place 
takes place intimately within intimacy
of a God smiling in his garden.

Your heart is then lit with candles
and  becomes mute with Happiness.