how used i am
to you
in the way
that you
perpetually
renew yourself.
we give it some time,
but are pulled back to it,
the rustling of the leaves.
i enjoy whispering with you.
not to you, but with you.
the song that it sings.
we set sail, we prevail.
we do not knock on the door of the ocean, we wade in, or we plunge.
we can also wait.
i try to smile.
the smile confesses to a proof that has been orbiting, ambling over the ample surface of our temples (by our eyes), though we could also praise the divine in this space.
i try to smile for the smile that never falters within.
i never had a small mouth, you see.