eve

your hands remind me of days when the created worked and toiled and fought for their land. your eyes are deeper than oceans and hint of days spent reading about England and Narnia, places your face is familiar with. how the time passed us quickly. Your mannerisms are silent studies on the beauty of a life that i failed at. there is magic in the mundane.

your eyes are ancient because you are ancient, dating back to when whispers of flesh flung deep into your dirt filled ears, and you arose. you danced for a maker who knew not of ipods and college and complexities and travesties. you danced for a man who laughed in his delight, and you spent your days gazing upon the feat of a being called woman. perhaps she could have been me. you fell in love. you saw destruction. you were there and were in existence and saw the magic of the world painted into vision. take me back into the pool of truth. take me back to the simplicities of pure beauty, and i promise i will run in the meadows littered with lilies that were Heaven’s extras. i will laugh in the sunrise of a day pierced with violets of passion. we will be exposed, naked in the garden, and the truth will set us free.