Morning in Petrichor

i want you
to lead me
through the speaking of language
so delicate and gentle
so peaceful and clear
so adorning and resolute
that the syllables escape from my conscience
in the haste
of fleeing tortured prisoners
our synchronous tones of subtle clarity
will be as theirs
emerging into the sharp light
of morning in petrichor
with these pronunciations
you and i shall liberate
undisturbed elations
arousing vibrations of freedom
and before these emanating frequencies climax
there is no room for hesitation
and our words will shock
and our phrases will stupefy
and our voices will neutralize the awkward paces
of life in uncertainty
at this stalling juncture
whilst your serene stare severs
my episode of insecure glancing
into reality
a new time and rhyme
our uttering shall puncture
the stuttering will rupture the moment
as far and as wide
as it hangs