So new, I don't have it's title. However; sometimes wouldn't it be better to let just the words take the photo for us. The writer to the reader... Isn't that what poetry does?

If my future path
were so determine
As I take steps to consider
to where I've been
To where I belong
Each moment becomes
Another line of silent songs...

My tune has played
Within breaths and bellows
Tempos of ecstatic sensation
Time so consume then and now has yellowed
Highlighted as scored and marked to each page
Written to octave beyond my earthbound perception
Hallowed hymns sung soon allowed with age

Eva

Steepshot | IPFS | Google Play