Again we sit o keeper of life.
How frail the plants look in the rain
and how they scream for sun.
You know not how they reach for you.
How they curl and wind to your touch.
They are here by your hand, and they long for you.
Again the sun will shine, small bits of green!
For you only know of the now and not what you are meant for.
This downpour make you strong and flowering shall follow your suffering.
Flowers of love will fill your small heads,
and never again shall you be frightened of the rain.
Once more you shall be looked on with familiar eyes,
and you will feel the familiar touch that has echos in your roots.
(8/29/2009)
And you feel it,
running through your skin.
Veins of pleasure , veins of pain
Hold fast to your sights of eternal blindness.
Rain has fallen; flowers grow.
Reaching out for some kind of cold touch,
asking for lips of ice.
Moving from limb to limb in the dance-
the dance of back and forth.
Wanting, needing for one of nothing.
The road winds to you, my skeptic-
for that is what is left of me...nothing but gravel on your path.
Pick me up, oh lord of wanting!
True needs for you are set into designs of your mind.
The seeds of my body have been planeted careful,
they bloom in the last days of summer.
Again they call out to you-
"all I require is water!".
Twisted minds behind refuge walls;
the voice in her head is singing.
She dances, twirls upon beaches-
the glass under her feet as sands of time, as acts, as songs.
She holds the glistening rocks up to her face.
The light reflects spindles of ages past.
To the moon she peers, her face hidden by shadows.
A spark inside her grows-
she waits for the melody to enter.
Fall pale rain of change on my face
The bird has flown away
From deep in her heart she sees it flying
With nests of evaporated sticks she falls
Knees rare on sand of beaches past
Puzzled and winding
The rain has made flowers,
they sleep soundly in beds of roses
Thorns from you are forgiving-
she holds smiles while running through them.
(7/15/2007)
Electric lights, sounds unending
Fly from her sight, small mind, with dancing stars in tow
Fresh winds blow from open windows into her lungs of paper,
growing blooms of winding roads and curves of pavement
Feet hit the ground like feathers, shaken dust of crystal diamonds fall to her toes,
grass peers up from cracks like the young eyes of wanting
"Awake sound sleeper" inside her head of dreams- the creator has called.
(07/08/07)
