SECRET
Sparkling joys whisper, so it seems to me,
a secret in hope — voiceless in silence...
Distant to touch, I caress you with my palms.
Ancient in an instant, you arrive so timid.
A soundless chord of striking harmony,
weightened by longing, falls as certainty.
The pre-time passes. We are mutually judged.
Bound without end. A shared solitude.
Shifting constant, primal yet secondary,
future, present. Tangible, intangible…
Author: Veron
