[Daniel:]
Eternity weaved over your lavender grave,
like sunlight plagued upon a closed door.
Washed over every fold, nook, and corner
of this earth resides a part of you.
My dream was to live in a circle of this,
night or dawn, pain or bliss.
I could bare none of it,
and I could despair,
but I could bare none of it.
Yet the vine keeps growing,
flowering with little light or water,
it creeps into my bones:
amaranthine, composed of
torture, embedded to blossom alone.
Yet alive like sunlight, nonetheless.