I trip occasionally
On the shoe laces of giants

but I can lift myself up
With the gusts of their footsteps


you, however


You are enormous

Gods cradle their gentle wraths
And hide beneath
the catacombs of Atlantis

As you burn
like a bursting nebula
above them

Aware only
of the spectacular
grains of sand
that illuminate
like chinese lanterns
upon glass
mirages

You ensured my
position in a realm of
Bohemoths

With your quiet
Concerns
I was kept from stumbling
off the cliffs
of your
lips

I have been there
ever since
staring into the face
of a full-eyed moon

...whytt*07