drown me
in the candlelight
that emanate
from your fingertips
cast the shadows
that give birth
to the deepest thoughts
hiding from the light
that tries to devour
drown me
in your shadows
heavy around my neck
drown me
in your absence
so that I might feel
the presence
of your thoughts
rows upon rows
chaotic encroachment
devour the straight lines
that define me and you
you and I become
a shadow of one
preach your words
like candles burning
the shadows away
drown me in the light
that might keep the thoughts
at bay
from which I try to run away
blur the lines
even more
between our divided lines
the borders that keep us seperate
blur into none
becoming brittle
becoming porous
becoming that which soon
might exude from the shadowed light
drown me in candles
and immerse in my light
for I speak the truth
that will become shadows
devouring all but your sight
Postscriptum
It was a night of shadows and candles, violins and music that reminded one of heaven. We sat in front, drenching ourselves in the sounds of everything vibrating around us. For a moment, we felt as if we moved on from life, as if we were in the afterlife.
We sat in the front rows, listening, giving over, releasing the tension that built up throughout the year.
For we were not there, but we were. Our bodies were in those benches, but our minds, our souls, were elsewhere, in another world for that brief hour.
We listened, with our bodies, and we felt with our spirits, we touched with our minds while our fingertips sensed what was going on.
It was, for the lack of better terms, a spiritual moment.
For now, we only have those memories of our bodies bathing in the candles and their light.
Happy photographing.
All of the musings and writings are my own, albeit inspired by the music and the candles. The photographs are also my own, taken with my Nikon D300 and Nikkor 50mm lens.