passing

in a dark place
but not solemn,
the light in your eyes,
lies in the world that i have overcome.
but we don't decide.
the sleep, is all we have,
to exact the number of entrances,
that we have of the material objects
we arise.
in a dark place, the stars shine,
and the killers lie,
but we don't deny the lies that we live.
there are places that we live
and the flowers that we forgive
for dying in our vases.
still, we break the silence that we might,
in order to take flight and read the passages,
that enact us unto the suffering, and passing,
and blessing,
that we become
that god has us
in our arms,
and never lets go.
and we love him so.
but is never sol.