Lost in a world of nebulous thoughts,
shooting stars and feathery sparks
bleeding scarlet fingers onto the wet canvas
of my mind, I close my eyes,
tumble into the black hole of doubt,
only to find myself alone
until you close my hand in yours.
I return from the inky swirl
of a watery grave when you
pull me close, into your embrace.
Together we sway to the rhythm,
of the universe’s dance—the now.
I unearth faith once more.
Written for Brenda’s prompt at the Sunday Whirl. The words we were to use are below. I just couldn’t work in oiled.