I do not have time,
For the persuasions
Of heresy!
You have prayed
In the labyrinth
Of my temple.
You have bathed
In the heavenly waters
That shower my garden.
You came to me mute
And I gifted you
With the language of my heart!
Author: ahorsealone
An Old Friend
We wrestled beneath the tomato vines,
Our elbows and knees beneath a broken cage,
Finding each other when no one was looking…
With dirt in our hair, and smiles in our eyes.
I listened in the garden until dark.
Prayers passed,
And the billows of sage rose from
The kettles in town.
What words were you forced to leave with?
Daydream
We are
Consumed by the wind,
As the autumn leaves
That leap from the hillsides.
So we write,
With our darkest ink,
Passages in the sky…
Letting our afterthoughts
Mingle in the gardens
Of heaven
Like careless birds
In early spring.
…testing the emptiness
Of existence,
We listen through the silence
For Grace.
And she says,
“Wake up…”
With the tap of morning dew
Upon my ear.
All that has left
All that has left
So silently,
Wanders among weeds,
Savors sweat as wine
And carnal company…
What of the eastern sun
Which never sets?
What of the whispered tongue
Upon a lovers lips?
All that has left,
Parted with the wind,
And the warmth beneath
The dearest wing.
Sing…
Sing…
Sing…
What of the eastern sun
Which never sets?
What of the whispered tongue
Upon a lovers lips?
I know love
Lets no wicked rest.
And I know grace
Weighs heavy
Upon my chest.
Beneath a Sunlit Moon
Let me tell you
About the moon,
As it watches
Over us
Tonight…
What whispers
Will we find
In the warm winds
Of summer?
Let us be
Overwhelmed
By the westward clouds,
And feel how
Life presses upon us.
a walk
In the alleys of solitude,
Wondering selves
Exchange wine.
And in a gust
Of autumn leaves,
I hoped to find
Your eyes
Among
The evening lights.
Like the smoke that slips
Through a window
Of an aged apartment,
Let me be
The afterthought
Of a marooned soul.
passing thoughts
Yet I find you
as dangling dew,
splitting the sun,
endlessly,
in my eyes.
It is your hand
i want to hold
through the garden
of nightmares,
and through
the ruins of day.
…your footsteps,
falling,
breathlessly,
are a melody
to my soul,
burning me,
with life.
