Before you, blues were just blues,
And love was just love.

Flowers were just flowers,
And the sun was just light,
And the ice, just crystals
Weighing down the mighty boughs.

Bodies were just bodies,
Molded from mud of telluric ash,
Returning as dust,
At the journey’s end.

Before you, love was just love.

And in the morn, ahead of the moon,
The heavens would spread its gold.
And the ice would sparkle,
And the eyes
That just saw, would see.
And the heart
That just beat, would bloom.
And life that was just life,
Would be breathed
Into the soul of the wayward gatherer.

Before you, I was just I.

And the walls that held me in
Could not hear your whispers.
But the ears,
Of their own volition,
Cradle the precious breath
Bearing it to the budding heart,
Until before returns to the ash,
And every beat thereafter
Flutters our love on a journey,

Past the dust.