Where thought becomes visible.
M. Joseph Boehler
These pages have been waiting, collecting reflections, and drawn fragments from this existence.
—
Our Constellation
by M. Joseph Boehler
whispers linger, drawing our hearts near,
and i long once more to trace, to taste—
the notes of your melody.
beneath the ember-glow of your eyes,
your smile beckons.
my lips glide over your contours,
you wrap your grace round me,
and we etch our secrets into the sky.
—
To leave traces that might meet another's path.