How do you speak to beauty?
How long you bask in its while?
How long do you bother?
by how it ties through its golden threads of warmth
it knits me in a cocoon
where I am left to think that nothing will evolve
the stage will cease to honor the actor
and the play would never complete
because I won’t let it
in the moments that I gasp
out of you
my own breath belittles me
on syncing with you
there is no butterfly when I it open up
the enchantment always completes itself
when love goes full circle
all works well only when
I remain enchanted
and think that the cocoon is my life.