The sky is my wound,
And you… my womb.
If ever was a lovers nest,
Let us in the sky take rest.
The sky is my wound,
And you… my womb.
If ever was a lovers nest,
Let us in the sky take rest.
The charm of a sun,
Those golden rays.
A wild grass undone,
Golden, reaches…sways.
In the ruins of disenchantment
Parrables of suffering
Lay amongst the orchids of beauty.
Here the heart labors
Where the soul
Has been patient.
Winds sweep away
Ruins and blooms…
Wanderers too.
There was a bird that sang to me
Beneath the pear and plum tree.
It was there for days I dreamed
As winged spirit honey weaned.
When in time I’d come for song…
Winds had then rested too long,
And summers end sent melody
South to hills of tangerine.
Threads slowly part undone,
Telling the story as ’twas spun…
Once by Earth…then Weaver still,
Then one wonders if of their will.
They’d keep going, so I think now,
They’d spin apart and to the ground,
And then to Earth…or Weaver still,
Then I’d wonder if ’twere will.
My eyes oft searched through the dark,
As though my dreams were empty,
Not only heaven fell to shore
When stumbled I on milky ore,
Long since the ocean, waves unfurled,
On shore laid thin her shawl to world,
And mountain, move’d far inland,
Swayed his self to shore as sand.
I stayed here, our world’s torn seam,
One man of men, looking within.
Photo Credit Harold Davis
There is a temple in my breath,
And my heart is a mason
Searching for steps to your neck.
But my breath is lost to wind,
Leaving temples in the sky,
Each a city to your sigh.
I heard the rain outside today
And a robin singing away.
I thought which way his song would sway,
Because I heard the rain outside today.
photo credit to Maksl5 at deviantART
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