seconds pass and no image forms
bluntness is softened by nothing to impact
eloquence lost to the void
those days the pressure is felt
of arms that are not arms
wrapping around the human form
held like a child hugs it's doll
but this is no child, this doll won't be dropped
this is no silence, just the lack of noise
this is no void, for it is full of divine
this is no impact, it's the floating of angels wings