ah! to lie caught under

their stare...

those circular eye

predestinations in

rectangular form

where is where,

as i am there

but must i be?

and still to think

am i,

let us drink together

you... a stranger

and i,

with a million faces passing

by, and no time

for me, to carve

their features to

a near correct,

do i dare to think in

the lie, that a stranger

will catch my sigh,

will i!, that i will,

under grey clouds

in a sun-free day,

my brush streaks yellow

in it’s reflection

who is my eyes

i stare, and lost among the

crowds,

but in waiting

as a cube of ice waits to die

for what is this lie,

in its hidden and

resting truth

i remember,

she and i, meeting

unknown

until beyond us both, has

grown

a lasting thought of we

of yellow,

so, i stand alone, hidden

for all to see

thinking, in part

of a child thought - touch

once,

shared with me

gone, and

never past

she is my hope,

as is my stare

which gives yellow

to the air

of my

standing here,

alone, ?

maybe…

but yellow!

- jude

faces staring in a white open hand

on once, while walking

through the sky,

a thought;

i heard a child’s cry

and spoke to me

on earth sweeping

in shaping

there was this tree,

speaking lyrics for

morning warmth;

"speak of she,

a mother feeling warm

adrift

of clouds shaping

a woman's form

of beauty;

a painting is long

and words will last,

a lady,

she hears the sky

living the reason why,

is time itself"

"I’m seeing thee,

a carving of

light in

a black tree",

so spoke those

sun-drinking leaves

touching, near to me

but what is distance

and where is time,

is earth a sky thought

yet, it is what we

hear, and though

that knows

of being near,

a day born smile

is sight

and day is night,

so is black white

in time together,

to hear, your

red tears, burning

as vapory flames,

setting my touch in a

painless pain,

till there is rain

and yellow is birth

returned

with your smile

reaching in through

mine

with my smile

reaching in through

yours,

as friends we are

faces sharing in

a white open

hand!

- jude

in silver dress,

must she shine

as her best

in the nest,

reflections!

liquid is the center

and it is color

wide circles of sight

might reflect one’s own

image amongst

a black softness,

so are her eyes

yet… through the mirrored

dark, without

she is heard by

a drifter’s eyes

and of white

are tinting in all form

of all color,

hand moldings in the sky,

whose drippings are

free, to set

light

through the currents

an ocean within

separate in universal time,

are chimes ringing

to the feel,

of

breathing souls

all who are near,

man

you are spreading

your toes in

a sand of

separate colored

livings,

as finding your hands cupping water, white

but our drifter

drops the rock

meant for her black mirrors

and smiles as he

leaves,

his path to her has been

perceived and nothing is more,

"never-good-bye my lady".

her silver line lies

may never reach

in the sky,

a fingertip;

pure blue-yellow

color,

in her hand, waving

hello,

as both past;

your heart’s breath

is an all time knowing

in as my

being

shall always hear,

- jude

drawn in flesh as gently

as is silk spun

in day white

earth child,

and queen of night

in the wilderness of

her domain

is brought to the steps

of time itself

through the

glass colors

she will view

as she waits, now

in living sight

before a;

forever time marriage

so is my care, that she will

not

stare till blindness

becomes,

so is my care, that she will

find

her waiting with an end,

so is my care, that she

may become

as are her hopes

if be it her

happiness,

may you be in the love,

as the love that

you are!

- jude

but where is that tear

i hear, it is breathing

and yet

appears to be hiding

from,

what is fright

as of where is it’s

might,

with tattoos, caught

against the underside

of her skin

she appears to smile

and it is said;

there is to be no

scratching of an itch

unseen,

i feel tired, and smile

at a thought-death!

Yet; i met a me, where

the care is neither

who is it i see,

i know!

it is she

i believe?

to feel a warm flow

of emotions many,

breaking through

the air of

sometime,

of somewhere

that she might smile

to her reflection in birth,

to dance alone and

free,

as she'll break from the air,

into the sea,

and swim, until the rainbow -

until the

earth of the under waves

movement

stains her skin,

that she does

smile, as i also hear

when that unheard tear

is near,

as i listen

from the air,

to care .

- jude

it is...

tattooed reflections

and the light is night

baby child,

in a wink known

as time

heard her breath

being born,

so did smile

between the waves

and, as the waves,

a separate yellow

thought

baby child,

remember this

yellow,

it is you,

as you of it

have brought,

- jude

strange is this human

voice, as came it

seeping from, within those

night weed greens,

but what is it as it

seems,

she is my flesh, lying amongst

the free air

about my hands

one word is all the thoughts

of the woman

who was my child’s strength

and is no longer

unless as...?

except,

yes, her still presence

is heard sounding in the air

as a breath of tears

swept past,

in the whole, as a non-speaking

piece

of my arm’s baby;

i am in without light

and time has left me

useless, staring

hand in hand

with eternity,

for this child will

no longer create

mud statues

under the falling

petal drops, of my eyes,

on your blood soaked lips

i place mine,

you? young daughter flesh

and your eyes of death color

must hold onto mine

for one holding second past

for one holding second before

my wife ; my child

we leave one another, not again

as i am to offer myself freely

to the

sea

sky

air

flesh

strange is this human

voice, as it is

within those

night weed greens

yet, is it as it

seems,

please !

and may it be,

we are one of three

- jude

 

 

something broke in through my

wall cracks

and called me to wake,

slow whispers

echoed back and

across

the somewhere of deepness

within me

"just paper, and just color

it is all me,

no time is

in my nothingness

i am all, so

catch my words

as i am the distance,

" waiting near"

standing alone and skinless

the screams began,

thorned were the bushes

carrying dead fruit, of this

path calling my

walk,

and i walked, wondering

at the memory

statued parks,

too warm are their

breathing touchings

for they are soundless;

and i want to run

alone and away

i want the sun

and the star-black

reflections of my

all-time smile ...

good day, my lady

strange, i found yellow burning

out from the comings

of your fingers,

as also did grow thick

of the air,

from your stare, in your

eye-thoughts

i found rainbow chimes

bearing presence

between the sounds of life,

and so did

to join as one;

sun-oxygen ...

to caress and know

my skinless form

you were my smile

and thoughts of yellow,

a poem, written

as you;

as paper before my

eyes,

i walked and could

breathe,

knowing a breath as

is your smile,

would catch my ears of

sight

with each living glimpse,

but does this

lady

stand really

or

are the clouds

thickened

ah! but i must

let it be, as the knowing

had come to me

and send my thanks, to

join into thee,

for my skin returned

and your smile

which burned

vibrations through my finger-senses,

woman-child

in the morning, i thank

for your steps, and

my foot remembering of the

earth,

i'm able to stand; of your

offering sleep

and of your shine

giving my eyes

the light care to

open,

hello ...

- jude

in so i thought;

of this whisper showing

itself of my air

as so i was caught

into the wondering

of where,

to stare

in my care,

standing, using a strength

as is my body

and wandering, through

the glades of

time old,

of time young, earth

dancing with

delicate

form

under, space black

sun yellow

am i,

a picture upon my

palm

ties the tenets of

my breathing heart

in a fashion, describing

color;

so is drawn my breath,

and i am growing,

but no space of thought

shall crowd

me into the space

of pillowed

tomorrows

so, i turn my eye’s attention

from the stars

back to touch

our sun’s fire

and yester-year tears,

are a film playing

across my sight,

pictures of warm light

though -.waiting;

i am knowing, day through

it’s word finishing’s

as i am reading in tomorrow’s

night,

she cups her hands

commanding the sand,

to shape

holding my skin prints

in wax;

to cup my hands

commanding the sand,

to shape

molding her skin prints

in wax ...

one statue,

two children,

woman and

man,

holding each other

in their hands

we are skin upon skin

seen after, are our eyes

looking into the

clouds,

"yes touching"

having been; wanting to begin

being!

- jude

in light of dream thoughts

are your eyes

opened wide

past a search

in a present ocean

blue

and surging as unbroken

waves - lead

by the wind

to share a glimpse...

wide circles black

touching, are we

past ourselves

past time

beyond the shades of color

into color itself

standing near to herself,

catching a wind-

darkness word,

formless

yet, solid felt,

she must speak with

the wind, as she

comes, to spread,

opening her wings,

colored space between star brothers

to fly

free through herself

in a child’s nest

lies her reflection,

in past birth

on toward life,

watching

with eye-love

upon an urge great

spread before her,

smiling to her mother's wing

wind,

a sister of breath…

many fingers of that man

tear up from

out through the sand

stealing nests

cutting to waste

all warm breasts, ready for

milking,

offering a slave-life

in the building zoos

crowded between bars,

her lives are lived

in between the

spaces under

closed

eyes...

but she shall fly

no more,

oh! … her child

stares no more

into the space

of free flight

and forgets the sky

color blue,

alone, touching color

freedom, she

dives up and out

into space black

carrying her child close

and warm,

her breath shall paint

the color

remaining herself

as her child breathes of her

breath exhaled,

stolen from the sky

might she die

just to see her

child,

never born

in a torn existence...?...

- jude

seated, perched upon a limb

and in a tree

it is so that i long to be,

to be alone from the

earth, in my separate

form

playing a powerless god,

a daughter of the sky

talk with me, as you are my

reflection, as the all

in of all things

and speak to me in your

mere breath form

as it is that i care

to catch a glimpse

of the sounds

in between

in your name i care, my child

when you are a woman

and when you play with colors

created, in your own thoughts

but you suppose in your

not quite happiness

that you might find

yourself, to be

a smile

but you are not of a smile

in the who you are,

acting in the play

with hope to be,

but blind earth reflections

speak never

to the child, reasoning with

the sky,

shall she fly!

or

shall she die!

so here alone, i watch you

play

and i'll throw my flower feeling

into your day,

but as i am of pen,

and words, here it is

that i must stay

- jude

lines for a plane,

and hoping!

i would like to wake

merely thought steps

past

a closely distant

feverous dream

with tired eyes

groping through the

light,

searching for a morning

hello intake of

breath,

young and sharp

as soft of color

and to find, myself

of warmth flowing out

free to the air

then with these

my hands,

i will touch upon

into, of

my child,

and breathe into her

breath

that of all my thought

life,

never good

and neither bad,

wordless before

the judgments who

must lie un-judged

i will breathe all;

i will breathe

my warmth

as she rests

her fetus thoughts

skin to skin

as was the beginning

with empty hands

at my command,

i bury my soul

in a separate grave

that her birth

shall be complete

and to catch a tear

against my tongue

smiling her eyes,

she has died

stepping quickly

from birth past life

into …

if she has yet been born,

i remember the

blood.

or does the stain remember

me?

- jude

of time,

in time

through time

of a motion

as forward;

but is time,

and where am i

as a line

to that distant-past

chime

of a corner comes

near

and yes -

i yearn to turn

the way

i am now not,

behind i stare from

a deepening care

to return, that i may

return!

through that door

i shall go,

to grow from

the turning into

a different time

am i mine , if i may

yet i stay

and quiet the tears

as the door is of a

handle not,

that i forgot to

listen

"yet, need you

not return to hear,

for you can still turn! "

oh time, time

am i yours

or are you

mine?...

- jude

cold touch upon

cold touch,

of our faces, marble

cut,

so we might smile

when we are

asked in a telling

tone,

so we might speak,

in the words we

were never born

of,

it is in the pain

that we never

remember

where our belief

will listen

will look

yet still, we feel

as each color

is known, separately

in white

of that tear, fallen

forever falling,

never to

spear back in of

the air,

in moving time

so never shall

die the homeless

tear,

it is the face of

the child,

afraid to wake.

- jude

yet,

what became of a

meeting between strangers

on a street painted in snow

in a night painted yellow,

speaking day

with smiles giving

life, to her

body warm

upon his hands, knowing

their sky printing

is free and in

their touching

what became of a

meeting between strangers,

they hold no longer

the warmth,

in closed being

on a bed sheet

red of white,

his hand held

too tight over

the light

and uprooted their

flower from the

earth,

too hard was his

wanting for birth

as too soon

was his forgetting

that they were born,

and together

where is this lady

that i have seen,

bathing her naked skin

alone, in the rays

of her sun

but as a thought on a

clouded day

and she wanted to say;

but she sat

in fear of her own tears

that she is lost

from her name once carved

in a tree, once

loved,

i watched her breathe

from circle color

out toward

the sky

and we met as strangers,

she shut her

eyes

yet, still

we heard

and still sailed!

though from behind

her tear window,

she could wave

only a silent hello,

wordless

in a meeting between

strangers, we have

come to be,

you, my lady

and me,

as we were born

i shall never

forget

and i can wait till

your tomorrow,

as you are my

today

as you'll know

our "hellos" touching

when you are the

strength to

believe,

strangers in the

cold ...

offer their child

as the sun

and need not come another

tree, you are born free,

i have seen you

naked, and

you are of beauty

as so i have touched

your name

and still

as forever, it

does remain ...

- jude

rise before me mountain,

rise out

and ask me to climb

i shall place my

feet alone

that they walk ,

and will follow

my body

i had a reality remembered

and still,

as within she asked

that my presence

join to her near

to her close

to touch

to become;...

there abreast

of eternity

shall i stand,

set in a tree

shall i be,

a union of body

and soul

of earth and sky,

so may i listen

that she may

cry,

throwing her breathing tears

for my inhaling; pores

i shall join you

my sky

that i care to fly

so, open your

hands and catch

me as i jump

and die.

- jude

the lady in her

eyes, is seeing

down from the trees

down upon the form that

encases she,

and smiles

that she is

of those fingertips reaching?

through the skies

of an ocean

cold and warm,

she is torn,

to choose

as she may swim

to choose

as she may swim

gentleness is my lady

of the tree

drying those tears

that let her be...

that built her sight

as she must see

what string may

she choose,

to hug the land

in their command

or

to jump and

carry herself into the

wind

in these wings

as she does command

are eyes, silent

but knowing

as is her

growing

as she is the time

she chooses, she is

and whether in thought,

birth or death

shall she fly

i must t smile

for she does fly

be free, my lady

we're alone

through the once

that we have come to

see...

we've become,

are we free

is, she

yet she has learned

to smile from a

tree

and I must hold

her every choice

not happily,

but with care!

- jude

from somewhere

of open window

distant

there burst an air,

she looks down

from a tree

and catches sunlit

yellow in her hands,

it is she who commands

a day

i have known to

be

small and wet in it’s darkness,

lies the fear

from within came

the shapeless forms

which hide always

near,

a little child mourns

not,

scared , she is

tied in a

quiet knot.

from somewhere between

what is seen and felt

creeps a voice

caught in itself

and yet too free,

not to let her be

and hides the

knowing of

yellow light

in a dropping tear

afraid to reach the earth

from a mold of fingers knowing

is born, a color sand

she forgot,

she remembers…

it grows, to have

reached my hand

i grab hold of

this warmth

tightly

and it’s shining brightly

as am i,

to meet in the

eye, of our seeing

we

beyond and alone

separate-called

remembers the tree,

is she

for she is

closes, and again

does the shadow

and i've heard her hide

away inside.

all-time still, remains

the reflection, of she

molded from color sight

is her form, sunlight

fingers touching

to her, that she is

remember the reflection

my lady

my eyes have felt

it is you i see

there is warmth

in the rushing air

i have come to know

and she must know,

it is life...

black is mere color

hidden in sunlight,

you need but raise

your hand

and from night

will come day

in the light

in the reflection of my sight,

might you know,

you are.

- jude

tell my why

you've been leading your fight,

for so long now

you've been believing in your

right,

calling from the might

of still unborn suns

remember of the

when, as you've begun

it is always your

first step out into day

as it’s strength

still bares arms

against you

cut their skin and

steal their blood,

that may you

no loner be surprised

at the wonder

of being

it is never day

and never night,

only false time

shadings

yet stand if you please,

not in hand

but alone

and groan for the sky

here lies the why!

you've forgotten to watch

your time die

your here lose it’s

movement

and find a child

born.

we must lie, again

as we must win.

no, not again

but still,

shall we begin

till we remember

the end.

- jude

i've been running out

through the street

in a hoping that i

may not meet,

any other passing feet

too many buildings

and much to tall

each and all and

to live to fall

oh! where am i

yet, that i know

a silver vessel

on an orange sea

a sun mold

cast from a poet’s

palms

i am, but here, deep below

the surface

of the sky

that, can i remember

for i'm running, near, yet

below, a distant sun

to loosen my feet

in a continuous flow

of sweat, drown down,

can i break away

burst within

and find my

eyes leading toward

a shining; day

beginning

that as i know

for i am there,

but the light

has not reached a care

to be known

this running slow, it

won't grow

yet i can't rest

until i meet

a touching with my feet,

and my eyes stare

in - seeing it so!

- jude

again she must be alone

in the many she’s

of frightened thought

and now

to cover in a shadow

of what was

and can never be

shall she,

retain the frame

of leading thought

that wrought her the pain

or might she claim

a new foundling , in

her unknown knowing

in growing, we

need now meld

the past to the future

in, we need not too... ?

rise slowly and see

floating, separately, you'll be

not even to touch a tree

be free

and again born

waiting for the clouded whispers

to scream,

remembering your parent

time

and a child needs to

clasp tight

no longer in might

and you stroll

homeless

but free to come upon

a beach sounded together

by the rain,

a sky’s stain

image,

your tears

free to be…? New roots

new trees remaining earth, still warm, in

different fighting sense!

- jude

she cried softness

deep into my

shoulders,

as she lied, encased

in sleep,

a strange world

and yet up-on an erasing

shadow of

gasping quiet

she knows a world once

warm and holding.

golden sun-drops flow

from your being’s eye

to her… i have caught the

breeze,

light and wraps a

warmth, strong

and tight.

no word speaks strongly

love!

that are the hordes

touching ; real

and there

she is carried by this

smile into day eyes

seeing

floating through

a feeling knowing

still truth

so smiles the child

upon mother warmth

and so feels her

days, with a

knowing, wordless

yet still real

the child does feel,

through a touching

there

in care.

- jude

 

 

 

will you, see, my lady

in your empty hands

those skin mirrors

reflecting a world,

those mirrors you clasp

so tight

reflecting time’s emptiness

stand, ripping down

every thread, tied

unevenly about

your body

within this so called

grouped alliance, of men,

to ponder the view

separate,

and be of for, staring through

the lights of stars

you'll see, that you stand

in lone command of

but one reality, an only reality,

you

these lumps of formless flesh

which mesh as black holes

upon a colorless sky

all, but for two eyes

deep and drawn

fearful of the surprise,

come sunrise

you'll see, if standing naked

and free

of all the reaching hands

near to thee

none have the substance

enough to find your

touch

don't concede to

those commands, lying

coverings upon your hands

just to touch,

clean-cloth upon your hands

painted in the invisible coloring

of not quite words,

for where is the warmth

swallowed, in the between

stages of human

hope,

of an existence, which

exists not

but on a plane

of black painted

bright

for-warmth,

yes my lady,

that trickle of all-life which

may, share

itself throughout your whole

yet, to meet

when only you are

but alone,

for as it perceived; you

are

for to see, you must look

for to feel, you must know

that, only you are

as only you can

it is a fearful flight

through the night

that you might

reach a star,

with both hands open and free

as you must be

the knowing strength

to sip of the warmth,

know of the sight;

in color alive

are thou,

if in the strength

is to see

a lady, born free

and meant to be

alive,

such as was this papered

night

when a rising

flowing of color bright

burnt itself

back into the

distance

where lies its

only reality

what might you

know, as the dance

watched

frightened caresses

and your eyes spoke

deep into mine

that you wanted our

touching to touch,

broke the morning of

your fear, and that

quiet reality we've

once again passed through

was but again

carried

as did the vapor

itself out from my

fingertips of flesh

and i know; those eyes

which may not be

permitted

to me

are still, and

remaining as the substance

separate from the form

that may i not

touch

but i smile on

the touch almost

near,

and with the substance

which asks

that time remain

still, yet for a second

so is carried distant

this mist of reality

i can almost hear...

of a shovel carved

by fear

and so must it be

these clouds i know

are near,

and a passing

drop as a tear of

life falling;

are the smiles i

am,

i find

in my desert-land

dry-sky,

in you…

- jude

a woman i met,

a woman i felt,

i'm carrying her eternal

being

as a presence within

within, that i may

not touch

but just know...

with the

fear of sight;

of thoughts

dead, that will not

vanish their flesh

caught by the growing

mist of our

knowing in being,

we danced

and in a

chance look,

this mist became

a sky clearing

of warmth

and sun

complete and solid;

that there

was no right for

the thought of

our sharing walls

to retain in the presence of

her thought

but that,

an earth still

lied cold and solid

upon our feet

without knowing, the necessity

of her muscles

tense and her eyes to

refrain from

sharing our deep

returned, as an old

presence within

yet we finished our

dance, without time

calling our names

and walked out

continuing the only

game, of present strength

that might

retain the knowing

of our:

substance-touch

watching her fear

which commands

the hand,

clutching a blade

that prevents

us from completing

the form

of our substance knowing

a beginning reality,

i remember this world,...

but i laugh!

and smile, as this

substance i may

not touch, is breathing,

and i can hear.

- jude

but to meet…

it is a presence

and as a blowing wind

i feel it,

yet it stands still

wrapping me

in an existence

of

breath,

a hold that is the

nearness of

your being

no future to

grasp as,

no past to bar

any colors of

the spectrum

from my eyes

good morning strips of

sun, lying free

across the air

of your being

in the present, i meet

you

and reality is

timeless

not forward

or behind,

but within me

as i see

and warmth floating

or is it i,

watches as my

hand

walks ; reaching for

solidity,

to become

your odor of

warmth

i ask not,

but move still

the same

to greet or pass

but to meet…

- jude

i meet this, a strange

but real care

as i pass, too close

too deep from my

air

i stare, and see

to inhale the breath

movement

which is the presence

of a calling substance

another tear,

a season passes

as does a year

and the golden sharing

color of leaves

falling about my path

turn brown

as they crumble

before my hands

and i reach not

but care, and in

a stare, smelling the

living breath of

her standing

in her full

color

in her distance

and as she

smiles through!

their time shield

that i am without strength

to overcome

i find myself smiling

a return,

without touch

yet with knowing

damn their fences

hell,

come on clouds

it is time

yes again to free

myself to the sky.

that i can't say good-by

as

we weren't permitted

as yet

our hello

touch

and forever near

she must wander

apart, but with me

alone, i know ...

tolobly!

- jude

death in its march,

as a music of flowing time

passes near

close to my wanting

but again

and who, of this time

shall rise the victor

that it is i,

through

of what, shall be

my choice?

in care, has been my

waiting without hope

and to all

those caught being-breaths,

do i raise

my fingertips

free in the wind

to catch sun-drops

that i have

finding my hands, the only

to carry into life these

new-light forms

do i catch a ride

on his black cloak,

as i am tired

too tired

and the air

is again

biting it’s cold-

death

life,

onto my skin,

it is my blood that

fears

this alive-cold.

alone, without warming hands

i am tired,

too tired

too fresh!

- jude

 

 

 

if murphy

where that i am,

a speck of nothingness

shaded slightly into

color

and flowing distinctly towards

a sea of clear

conditioning.

lady and child,

carved alone

upon the shore

within a tree

quietly awake

as yet,

for the sea

to succeed as the

earth’s one last conquering

hero.

when i concede my eyes,

when i find, to see

who am i to be?..

of a moment’s scream in birth

of her arms

as of the child within

of her reflection seen

in the eyes of my reflection

seen in hers.

as a piece of absence

a non-light speck

of passing dust, hidden amongst

the rust

that is the seeing of this child

new

of my reflection standing

un-surrounded

in the non- of her sight

of my seeing me...

and will she find,

this lady on the

line

standing, and through

pass the waves

as ripples

forgetting their points

of substance-beginning

to break back; free

into the knowing

of their separate unity,

she is waiting

waiting, she listens to the

sound of her dreams

and yet,

wakes,

under-covers

still

hoping, she holds thoughts

of what might be

wrought ...

but lies,

not naked

in the tree, and not before

the wind-palms

that carry into love free

she is on the line

lost in time

aware to the

find of her reflection,

wind drenched

but clothed

in protection

against the knowing - feel

that she'll sway,

to break away

so, as another will hear

he might come

near

in time, with arms waiting

free...

and this lady,

fuels the frightened

touch, of

corruption

upon the child and she

that she must wait

until it is sure to be

of a knowing seen

but what can be seen

until it is

as

what can be , until the

ripples are found

again free,

lies the jester to the

sky, of all -

falsehoods

she watches from her sack

of warm and black

onto theirs, in the passing

to rise her hand of

air-white

that she might

not just to see

but to watch

as it comes to be

and to watch her

cry

until his eyes, grow

near enough to hear

these eyes of love,

so that if he exists , he can come

to a sounding touch

into one, of the goddesses in

white,

tolobly - he holds your

lap, and will catch

the tear, but only of a lady

robed in white,

only with you in

a mountain-top-sky

and for the naked white of your

hand, free, he waits

as he and only he can see...

as he and only he

can know,

she can,?

she is , ...

- jude