No Sleep till Dawn

Martha hold your grip it might slip a beat and carry you away from your liminal space. A threshold where space and time are immune to the rolling seasons of earth. the spirits of old whispering in your ears at night, they push away and point their finger back at you. your time is fraught with entanglement. The old age love lifts itself with vigils and half-received letters. Your heart, half frozen and half burnt quivers in the attempts to resuscitate. the bilateral beats taming your sleepy eyes and awakening lost emotions that were once alive in you. I conduct and facilitate the transitioning of your spirit. I am the wind that carries you with a soft push and delivers you away from your lasting pain.