20 12 2012






it waits out there, with baited breath
it’s voice so fair, though it speaks death

Living not in natures eye,
does it pass us by.

If we heed not, it’s thought’s intent,
we do not sway – do not relent,
a lovers eye can see the swim,
the feelings felt, upon that brim.

Of living in the moments eye.

Begotten swans on gossamer sky,

sailing ever onward
the waking thoughts…
the big wazoo.

The place we see our flesh so true.
The place our bodies live.
Still lie upon the water blue…
that ancient, sacred sieve.

when history threatens, to despair
with fetid, gleaming

we must depart, unto ourselves
and let her sieve

The feelings that come rushing in
upon that tainted wind,
may lead our humble spirit to,
the place the path begins.

In love
and comfort,
peace and bliss.

We return…


and stronger,

for this.




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