Miracle of Minutiae



Looking at you,


Looking at me,

Neither of us,

Looking at each other


These are the little miracles

The way footsteps look like brush strokes

And my eyes are more colorful

For reflecting all the colors of you

With such a sound of suspense


Pounding my drummed ears into hearing bark peel off trees

Those trees become parables, preaching and teaching of perditions flames

We open all the windows, make garments scarce; we prepare for the bonfire

Oh yes, we will burn but you will have to watch us shiver


Published at RAW