So little you observe
And what you do is common,
Almost needless in its triviality.
Yet you appeared in the fire of my musings
When I still insisted
On unmade doubts.
Oh and meaninglessness- it crept
And found its way
Around my shoulders.
So still you stood-
Close enough to grasp
And hold in good fortune.
You seem not to worried that
My heart is in your hands.
Yet I can’t fully keep up with
The hope your spirit demands
-Jennifer Barajas
A Dead Language 