The sound of a voice, liquid flowing down wire
stir feelings hermetically sealed in a jar
sweet taste of temptation, painted on velvet
in mute colours stolen from Rembrandt's heart

Visions of marble rubbed smoother than heaven
cool and surreal, yet so out of place
caresses of strangers bare dangerous thorns
when lost in the warmth of an angel's embrace

Words sound so hollow when spoken in vowels
screams shatter silence when followed by sighs
resisting insistence on promises broken
woven of soft, swollen gossamer lies

Completion seemed closer than ever remembered,
receding like foam on a whispering tide
memories caught in the echoes of mountains -
the distance between is the distance of time

But angels don't dwell on the dark side of rainbows
and shadows can't grow in the absence of night
so the sun never sets in this dreaming of deserts
the gleaming of evening forgets mourning light