My silence awaits kindess of
Ten thousand open sails
Journey to a mountain top
In depths of an ancient sea
While o’r each wooden rail
I send my unwritten sheets
That blow away promises made
In a forest made of sleeves.
Your heart is not a valley away,
Nor a diamond left unbought.
Though time discovers all our pain,
Lifting our sins to meet the eye,
To shatter history spent in plans.
To know is like a misspent truth;
To touch the wings of a butterfly;
To give up on the fight.
Where I’m left standing,
Yelling: “My heart is on my sleeve.”
Which I’m not here to wear,
I am here to give alone.
Where I hear the valley’s echo.