An inland lagoon of deep purple.
Greeted on all but one side by the soft earth of cavern floors.
Currents solemnly migrating under the silver gaze of the moon.
Serenity produces a song of silence,
with the occasional improvisation of the waters outside.

Candles religiously congregate within the cavern.
Their lights flicker with a dedicated vigil,
While a marriage of blacks and browns secure them within

Casting off the dust of our mundane, everyday rituals,
A spiritual Baptism submerges us in this time, set apart from time.
A pastel softness falls upon her face and form,
As golden leaves dance across the surface of the waters.

An errant wind curiously explores the cavern,
Before rejoining the rest in their easterly pilgrimage.
While, quietly, we whisper to one another.
Interlocked gazes speak more than words,
In the company of body language, glances, and spiritual ease.

Safely and comfortably hidden from the worries of the world.
At least for these few precious moments,
While a blend of cream and cafe move in unison.

by malakhai jones
© Copyright 2016

img src—night.jpg


    1. Thank you Vic! This is my crutch right now. I have to get better at story telling, pacing, sentence structure, and the use of objects to explain characters. This style doesn’t work for everything.