masks melting in front of a peculiar peace in soul. tranquility's best friend was silence, is silence. standing so still, acquaintances with one perspective & then moments later, an author of its biography. the lost heat of blood flow creates spiritual roots in the earth below, transporting thoughts of calm tides into the core of a heart for billions. God's pencil dropped on a piece of black paper, & this flesh was born. a world inside of a world, whose world does it contain? a microscopic transcendental gift lost in the loops of shag carpeting, in the vents of rooms like a coin, in the boxes stacked in closets, in the crevasses of internal nerves. value to someone, to an experience, to a personal gain, to a possible change, a revolution, a revelation, valuable.
how deeply buried it must be.
how deeply our eyes must see.
how deeply our hearts must yearn.
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