Her name In safest regard. Bewildered to me, that these tears Drop to make the stones, Sunken with all the bones Ashen in color, Washed out of salience. Modest maker Of all love, while she burns the pages At the furthest lighthouse. The rush to the lanes, An hour of hardship To land, for an eternity in her eyes. Beyond the mere importance To a singular beating heart. Beyond the necessity of a moon Taking us into starlight. Our past comes close, Wields all directions. Bones become the soil, Time becomes the toil. Importance Burns into the beyond. Her turn to call out The sentence, in the advance.