It’s unknown and amiss,

A door without handles 

or box with no lid.

Dim starless nights

and dire clouded days.

Bleak skies over barren seas. 

We can right the wrongs,

redress the irregular. 

Minute long nights. 

Our thoughts entwined, 

willow branches along lush banks.

Our bodies entangled,

inextricable balls of yarn. 

Our cascading veins,

wildfire through wilted woods.

Our senses submerged,

surging rivers over rock bed.

Give in to each other, 

as the cliffs give into the sea,

as paper gives into pen.