We, this imperfect photograph
Seemingly
In which nobody
Wants to be
Warped by wisdom
Invested in love
Honoring any of Earth
Touched at their edges by angels
Apologetic or ever redeemed
As evidenced by this Alone
We, this imperfect photograph
Seemingly
In which nobody
Wants to be
Warped by wisdom
Invested in love
Honoring any of Earth
Touched at their edges by angels
Apologetic or ever redeemed
As evidenced by this Alone
When you suppose your eyes
Close them whenever, what do you see
Me
I see flowers that belong to you, although I have no proof
But it is your stare
From my best recollected memory
Through this whirlwind storm God permits
And this calm
From which I build my case
Nearly all I beheld seemed as an exhibit
You looked like proof to my skeptic’s eye
The evidence for hope
The verdict guilty of love