There is a silence to the south
A burning mystery
Rolling over the tip of a tongue
Sliding gently into a memory
That could be a story
If only it were written there
On parchment or bare skin
The back of a hand
Or a stark street sign
Lit by the blankness of night
The wind brings with it a storm
Rattling steel and bone
With it's delicate deluge
And drenched
In this quivering possibility
It is nothingmore
Nothingless
Than heaven at a distance
Glance up
Take it all in
Swiftly choose
Right or wrong
Doesn't matter
And if that is so
All that is left
Is to swim
A burning mystery
Rolling over the tip of a tongue
Sliding gently into a memory
That could be a story
If only it were written there
On parchment or bare skin
The back of a hand
Or a stark street sign
Lit by the blankness of night
The wind brings with it a storm
Rattling steel and bone
With it's delicate deluge
And drenched
In this quivering possibility
It is nothingmore
Nothingless
Than heaven at a distance
Glance up
Take it all in
Swiftly choose
Right or wrong
Doesn't matter
And if that is so
All that is left
Is to swim