Rapport

If eyes are indeed windows, into our delphic soul, then what is the essence, of this mouth we own? Is it the river, where wade, brash and tender words? Is it a roadway, where bolt, wildest whims of tongue? Is it the backdrop, where freed, dreams relentless roam?  Is it a temple, from where, sacred scripture soars? Is it the scene, which bore, pure and jagged plot? Is it a tryst, between, the mind and yearning heart? Is it rendevous, joining, two in tantric knot? Is it a space, where collided, poetess with juggernaut?

Or is it a phantom zone, where healing bonds are formed, which carry us even closer, to moments waited for?

Still if eyes be the windows, of where we soul explore, surely mouth be the pathway, to our stertorous rapport-- For this point be the portal, whence your primal breath was drawn, and breathless did we leave, coming through each other's doors...