I trip occasionally
On the shoe laces of giants
but I can lift myself up
With the gusts of their footsteps
you, however
You are enormous
Gods cradle their gentle wraths
And hide beneath
the catacombs of Atlantis
As you burn
like a bursting nebula
above them
Aware only
of the spectacular
grains of sand
that illuminate
like chinese lanterns
upon glass
mirages
You ensured my
position in a realm of
Bohemoths
With your quiet
Concerns
I was kept from stumbling
off the cliffs
of your
lips
I have been there
ever since
staring into the face
of a full-eyed moon
...whytt*07