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 of the Mountains

Water  whistles upon my lips
Like songbirds from the mountain
That make their seldom trips
When thick clouds surround them.

When all leave into their homes,
Birds settle amongst a land alone,
And their song on what war exhumes…
Untill earthen clouds fall undone.

The bird,as i drink, hovers…
My eyes are closed and yours
Teach me unlike the others…
As gossip on a summers’ doors.

I open my eyes and then I hear
The dry whisper of almond trees.
I should not wait long here
Hope is little, and mountains near.

Their song has settled there,
In mountains, in war hidden.
So they return and lift their
Song,the land, were it has fallen.