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.

Songbirds from our Mountain

Blood  whistles upon my lips
Like songbirds from our mountain
That make their seldom trips
When Western clouds surround them.

As we rush into our homes,
Crows roam a land alone,
And their song, on what war exhumes…
Until earthen clouds fall undone.

And as we weep a vulture hovers…
My eyes are closed and yours.
Teach me unlike the others…
As gossip on a summer’s doors.

I open my eyes and then I hear
The dry whisper of almond trees.
How can we stay here
Hope is little, the crows are near.