Sentences line up and wait their turn,
For spirit’s whisper finding inky flow,
With words assembled in a loving mass,
That hearts might heal and raise their sinking souls;

When words begin to swim and hit their mark,
Chosen lexicons so oft severe,
Pain and sadness left within their wake,
A forgotten spirit hides once more to sob;

Seething burns that blister soulful flesh,
A darkness overcomes the lighted glow,
And when our hearts attempt to have a voice,
It isn’t from our hearts that lips dispatch;

Guidance moves while I remain uncertain,
Though lessons that are passed – already known,
When days arrive that spirit’s voice is heard,
All shall know that love resides within;

With “loneliness” removed from native tongue,
Finding grace in everything we see,
Only then will we become aware,

Love creates the blessings that we seek.

SEAN YETERIAN