Unnumbered Psalm

  You are creation,

  passion,

  the story untold,

  the piercing joy of light through a window never opened.

  You are the final word of every prayer that waits to be said.

  You hold me though I cannot stretch my arms, my thoughts around you.

  You are closer than skin, close enough to hear the words I dare not whisper.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  You are breath.

  You are pause and movement, inhalation and release.

  You are the clock of my heart

  that turns with empty hands, waiting for you.

  You are the time it takes to fill a blank page.

  You are the words of this sentence.

  You are the languages I have not spoken,

  the spaces between these words,

  the letters,

  the alphabet,

  the ink,

  paper,

  pen.

  - Kat Isacson