Article voiceover
poison eats you darkly— sharply
from the inside.
wells the choke of mismatched words,
in rising decibels
the pendulum swings, it sings
songs to invoke the cosmos,
here we are now
torn, burned and free.
I am first turned yellow leaf,
speaking in foreign tongue—
am of lemon skin
emerged from a sea of green
I speak the sounds your mouth shapes,
but does not speak,
embroidered from the tongues of angels—
in whispered ecstasy
the universal patchwork a bind,
of the life ahead, the life behind,
it squints clues through glimmers,
so we look again
here we are now,
waiting and worn,
holding each other softly;
as sacrosanct— in hidden morning stars
the shards of light that dreamed us,
hoped us into living
eyes wide open— lemon tongued
where God wanted us to be
Above is an audio explanation of the piece, I've not done this before, see what you think. Has it changed its meaning from your read? (I hope not!) 
I so understand your reticence about explaining the writing process. Although "listening to the whispers of the writing" is as good an explanation as I've heard. I like your idea of paying attention, or noticing observations, that drive the writing process, whilst the writer is partially responsible for the words and partially in the audience watching the words form.
I love too the idea that these smallest things, like noticing a yellow leaf, are also seeds that grow a garden in your mind.
Sometimes writing feels more like gardening, tending, than building or constructing, because the words are animate objects with meaning. I remember someone saying something about good writing meaning the writer just gets out of the way. I intuitively understand that, although who gets out of whats way....yeah :)
Another beautiful poem. Thank you for being in my inbox!