I read your poetry aloud, morels of a feast of finery makes -

I feel, I sense, my exhalation condenses into the softness of mist. Do I flow to your rhythm? Perhaps. Catching glimpses of the light of your essence true. True beauty, love, the delicacy of compassion. I feel the warmth of your inner flame, but barely do I understand your truth, instead feel your essence everywhere. Surrender to your truth.