Thoughts I have considered
Vast lakes of gold,
A patient and persevering
Series of eternal visions.
We walked towards the North Pole,
Centered with shame and confusion.
A voluntary arc of precipitation
Gathered in arms before the host.
And yes you do not believe.
There will be no fire
No hearth to burn our love,
Nor joy found anywhere.
It is a tactile conversation
Between our hearts.
And my life lies
Alone between bare Earth and Sky;
For a moment with the Almighty.
So I may wither and die.