Zing went the strings of my heart, playing a rhythm that danced in the dark.
Zing! And the rhythm grew, renewed by the palpable knowledge that joy was the singer, the ringer, the bringer of certainty, aiming it’s aim towards me.
Zing and the sound of joy, the colour of iridescent gold made bold by the wave of desire, the wave of belonging, such longing to be held close.
Zing ; the feeling of hope, the scope of the future horizon, no compromising it’s faithfulness, true to its promise of breaking through to new destinations where explanations are not needed because of the rhythm, the moving, the bonding together, forever, not just for one day.
Zing and I’m caught in your arms, love’s pure balm that soothes and renews me.