Composure

By Charles Sapp II

I am shaking as I gain my composure.
To compose my soul's prose—
if it were music its synonym would be its score.

You’ve shown me absolute light
during the most dismal days of dark despair.
I write, as if my heart is unplugged,
bleeding unadulterated emotion
signified by graphite symbols,
staining its etched testimonies
deep into the pulpous fibers of this fine parchment.

This is the instrument of my methods.
This page is my medium,
my canvas
to illustrate the aquiferous love that permeates to the surface.

It is like my soul is subordinate while on curfew
when it exits my body and rendezvous with your spirit’s
uncanny love.

I want to present timeless gifts in your honor
beyond worldly wealth;
heaven’s heirlooms
intangible and intimate.