I found something beautiful

hidden deep within the morning,

and I realized that even if you've lost your god,

the ecclesiastical still sleeps and burns

in all things small.

I found something radiant

at the bottom of my teacup,

and I knew that even once you've let me go,

you can still find me waiting

in the dust that only dances

when the world is still and bright.

I found something true

nestled with the dirt and the skin

underneath your fingernails,

and I saw that even when the nothing takes you,

the world is still pulsing behind your eyelids.

I found something sad,

something real, something thirsty,

something sinful and something good

in the spaces between your fingers,

in the cracks in your skin.

I know that when your passion flees

you'll find me waiting in the dark,

and I will whisper secrets to the earth,

and I will sing songs to the clouds,

and the rain will come

and you will grow again,

and your god will remember your name,

expectant on its lips,

and my hands will close around yours,

warm and soft and dry,

and the everything will burst from your fingertips,

loud and raucous and wicked and dazzling,

and you will open your eyes

and you will open your mouth,

and the light will ache its way down your optic nerves

and the air will stretch its way into your lungs,

and again you will find the beautiful

the radiant

the true

the sad the real the thirsty the sinful the good,

and behind you I will always stand,

gently guiding you home.