There is a fire born in the seams of the pillow;

a luminous sentiment

breaking through the stiff fabric

of routine emerging out from disciplined imagination.

I am Your traveler,

defining form in shadows, listening

to Your words, those living

breaths plied as effort, becoming work,

the occupation of industry

bound by no walls;

the verdict of Your gorgeous thoughts

free running

emboldened waters

over lands’ new stretch,

chasing Your horizontal pull.