Evolving time decays around your touch
months of raspy birth breaking through,
accents from your graceful womb
draw my shadow into perfect echoes.
I begin to embrace a miraculous season
one that overpowers me and speaks force,
caresses never out of reach for a blind sculptor
who only begs to reach out and hold light.
Your art opens like a maturing leaf
unafraid to face the glorious genesis;
through scolding raindrops we will rise
encompassing a greater engagement.
