TWO OF GRAILS

I stand at the threshold of two grails. So full for two; yours and mine. To sip from these chalices will transport us into desires that shine through intricacy and innocence. Bound by something heavier than the weight of contemplation, you are my sixth sense, leading me with the precision of the blind. And when the night steals sleep from my eyes as it often has, I am anchored by the remembrance of the sound of your voice and laugh. Textured like oriental brocade, smooth against my auditory senses; I am not lost. Although I question internally, I am cognizant of the truth that the key to crossing the threshold is the choice that sits on the hearts of two, like fog in atmosphere.

— Tolú