aching loneliness spills out like blood on parched pages
inner-wardly, awkwardly, strangely, slowly
congealing within each bowl and stroke, jot and tittle
spuriously, confusedly, tranquilly, mystically

like a misty vapour drifting across the seas
of ageless times beyond men's mere mortal grips
like two smouldering galaxies in a distant embrace
of conflicted thoughts intertwining aphoristically

waiting to speak and yet to await
space and time holding their cherubic breath
before that ancient besmirched kiss
of loneliness' gnawing whisper