If your answers solved
What mystery remains between lives,
Where would our trial be held?
Where would we lay down our tools
Dear for this unquenched need
To work until our knees are sore
And our feet curl up at the seams
Of our understanding, our dreams,
For they would rust
Lost in a gaze of submission
Caught by the hand that pierces all hearts.
I would be lost
For I compete with a memory
Complete and detail oriented.
I ask not for your question,
I speak not for your silence
I read not for your passage
I hold not for your gift
I growl for your soul
That bites off what it believes it can chew
I snarl for your essence
That rips apart belief structure
And I cry at the foot of all you have become
For I know not how to unbecome
What I had never waited to be.
Tag: cry
This Vessel (day 2559)
I’ve grown fond of tripping over ropes as I lean forward at the rail upon this mighty ship.
My hair blows into my face and it feels good letting go,
Though each time I rummage for more hope
I feel the wind crying at me as if I have always forgotten to say goodnight to it.
But I havent!
I whisper my serenity prayer each night I lay awake in bed,
And count the trees bending under the weight of their new leaves blowing to and fro.
I am forgetful, so I cannot be perfect.
But I plan my next voyage with this ship the vessel that will take me there,
Which makes me smile as my hand rummages through a few frayed strands that tell me stories.
Sunday Breakfast (day 2517)
You’re lost in the abyss
Of a body I never missed
A lingering taste
Of a song I never sang
Why hold on so long
To a handle left unrung
Crying at the wheel
Going nowhere fast
On a sunny Sunday
And breakfast coming at last.
Amidst The Sea (day 2410)
To be a small boat putting by
Through inner harbor’s gait,
Would be like worker bees ashore
Minding to the hive.
And when nighttime should come at last
Finding a dock to rest,
One could only hope to find
Night life to pass the time.
For if my lonely soul could cry,
A sputtering on I would go,
To and fro, back and forth
A small boat amidst the sea.
Softly Cried the Orchid (day 2189)
My shallow scoop has left graceful dents
Upon the eves of my tomorrow;
Pondering a moment here leaves me
Wishing I hadn’t left my tear
So delicately upon your shoulder.
I grew an orchid that cried so softly
When the rhythm of the moon filled
Each crystal chalice with translucent waves
Softly swirling in my hand
Wishing I wasn’t so damn ready.
And as I watched the sun gallop
Over the Eastern horizon from my chair,
I hummed a tune in my favorite key of D
So low it had rumblings of a tumbling dream
Which pressed me between cold sheets for another day to begin.
Ancient Seabird (day 2179)
When wounds of Ancient Seabird
Flush over each cresting wave
A reverie ensues
Collected with raindrops
From ocean condensation.
Mother cries, laments,
Spreads her tears
Into spraying breeze
That wafts over heralded rocks
Sentinels standing guard
Waiting for the bleeding
To dampen each succulent
Feeding fears forgotten
And the breath
Of Ancient Seabird.
Howling (day 1888)
You’ve heard me calling upon your heart
My intentions are the spring:
Freshness of blossom, budding truth,
And warmth of the sweet sun.
I do not mean to make you shy,
My intrigue honest felt;
Throwing hazard to the wind
You hear my heart, my cry.
Like all painters of the world
I’ve swept my stroke upon your canvas,
Chance has left me restlessly
Dreaming of a midnight dance.
Your heart is grace to my wide eyes
I’ve felt it pushing, then giving slack,
I hear your wolf howl at my moon,
Hear mine, here, howling back.
Storm (day 1897)
Picture if you will
And together in a spell
From the start it was a myth
And you cried as if unearth
My tonic was the birth
To last unlike death
Gathering wind
Gathering storm
Gathering the eyes
Of ten thousand hungry men
Entrapped, entranced
In a stately march
Will I live alone?
Will I seek a heart?
And to the end
I collapse once again
Longer then our wind
Thicker then our storm
And then all at once
Dropped, it was to end.
Sound of the Earth (day 1831)
Day is delight
Far from Autumn sun
A rising in the sea
And I’ve begun to swim
Cry wisdom worth
Healthy canopy
Following deep worth
Sound of the earth
My Windows Remind Me (day 1808)
I couldn’t cry, no,
For sin overtook me
Made comfort my own clothes
Wriggling ounces
Of my humane sanity
To a slow beat of a bass drum.
My windows worked
To remind me
How little I ever understood,
How uncomfortable
I surely would yet become.