heart stain

"...don't dwell on what has passed away...the dove is never free..." (leonard cohen).

leftover light in the place of ringmarks, a single cup of tea sings volumes over evening's empty howl when lost spirits are found in words that are lit by the wings of entering angels. a sign of grace in the place of hands holding hands. a sign of color's stain in the rain of the hours. a sign of the perfect offering given over to erasure in the space of hearts. [but it won't go away].