An Ocean Warmed by The Son

Dress the wounds.

Caress your strength.

Feel this time.

Faces lit by moonlight, against the tides we stood for something this time.

Harbored Trust.

Before the weather.

Desires hang like kites.

Candlelit pathways, along the night, we walk and limp in our time.

In the shades.

Warmer skies.

We let ourselves be free.

Clean breaks.

Cleaner stakes.

The old world tricks sparkle like fireflies, the funeral rites burn bright, they move in and fade away.

With each new breath.

Tightly the pages turn.

Where the ghosts that haunt.

Ships perch along the coast, our clearest hopes gather abroad, Shimmers of hope burn blue.

Before our time refrains.

You dress my wounds.

You restore my strength.

You guide me through the night.

The lantern fades, and the rivers of suggestion part our ways.

The waves reflect the exhales as we became free.