I close my eyes and I can see him.
He has no face. He has no name.
But his soul is ever lasting,
And anciently, ever waiting.
With his hands, he grips a sword,
It overpowers any blade or knife;
My body protected from the scars.
With his eyes, flowers rise from ash
And begin to fill the empty dark.
Golden leaves and silver stems shine,
Followed by swarms of butterflies
And hummingbirds seeking rest,
Longing for the sweet nectar.
And with his heart, oceans pour in,
These high walls cannot withstand.
All of the barricades are destroyed by the depth and width.
Then, with his words, my soul calms.
And in his mind, there is only more,
And time doesn't limit.
He opens the gates to the deepest and most secret garden.
And there I stand, smiling finally.
I see his face. I know his name.
And with a comforting look into
The deepest gaze I've ever held,
I know I have been found.
