How did it happen…
In the sun?
My hand still burning
From the smoke.
My body a desert,
Your words the wind,
I feel the travelers
Divinity sends,
Forgetting their past
Upon my skin.
When did the childish
Chatter chill me still?!
And just like that
Disappear.
Tag: Spiritual
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.
To my sister
You are a temple for lost souls,
Who seek not scripture but rest.
For your doors are never closed
And spring runs childishly about.
And when the harsh winds of winter
Come bellowing from the North,
They are tempered in their shame,
Settling in their youth, beneath your eyes.
Life will not find your secret,
As she is blind to her self.
Though time will remember your refuge,
And forever find you, his rest.
Pieces
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
ahorsealone 