An eroding mountain
left that print upon my spirit,
the credence of utter impermanence,
and now the clouds, filled with luminous light,
Glide quietly through this night of nights
Each an exhale, a sigh from the unfathomed vast sky.

Here is where we’ll always merge,
in that sky-like timeless space
between our dramatic sighs.

Within this fertile silence,
where the magic’s born.

Before all impressions, names, or shapes
Which we could know, or feel or be

Here is where only abiding love is real.

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