“ we lived depravityand called it truth, silencingour dreaming, andour love, discardingthings holy. ”
. . .our whispered words, faintly in the darkness, dissolvingwithin the trees—then, fleeting words of consolationwould not suffice if feigned, and flippant wordsconfessed reluctance—our wordswere meaningless uttered on the wind. . .
~ John Daniel Thieme
. . .in your light, had I learned to love, here in your beauty, could I speakknowing of this space close withinas the breath held inside a garden rose, there— there is no time.
I wish to go down under the waters—the cool, crystalline waters that I knew, where allthat is, here, existing, isis only to be lost within the susurrationsand the rumours of water and the evening starwe wait for...
. . .though the names of lovers are forgotten in time, their nameswritten across the sky as ogham threads are tracedbetween the stars