​It is Christmas eve
​and I am alone.
​But I still walked
with the stars
​this morning.
​Restless, and soon
​to be reborn.
​My heart is totally
​filled with things.
​A love that will see
​the light of day.
​Forever etched
​in my poets eyes.

​A discarded key,
​or perhaps a lost life.
​But I still rejoice in
​the morning haze.
​And when I think of you.
​I here a calm chant,
​a crack in the dark clouds above..
​How many petals will fall
​before we embrace again.
​And those lustful days return?

​It is the afternoon –
​in the sunshine and in the wind.
​I do not wait anymore
​for the docile hands to rise.
​For everything lost,
​we have to find again.
​But I have the
tranquility ​of your body.
​And I count the moments
​we are together,
without falling asleep.
​That is the way now for me.

I woke early this morning
and talked with the moon.
I’ve missed it and waved.
With permission,
I took it out of the sky.
And sent it to you with a kiss.
It promised to come back soon.
Five minutes later, it was gone.
​

​Read, dream, write.
But don’t think.
But I heard life
calling me.
Like an island sea,
small movements
that guide.
This is not so
black I thought.
And walked towards
you with love and
desire blooming.

Tell me again
how nothing else
fills your air.
Like my hands
and my lips,
loud & clear.
Tell me again
how Asian skies
and Western shadows.
Can fuse and become
wonderfully wet.
A heartache’s healing gift.
And I will tell you
that we are
only two people.
Dancing in each other’s story.
Whose love lives
outside of time and death.
​

​Breathing and watching.
​I choose to rest in the moment.
​A breeze blowing across my skin.
​The rivers youth fades so fast.
​But my feet are on solid ground.
​With your love still
beating inside me.
​How you tantalize the shadows.

​
​It is a time to make a change.
​Better a blank slate.
​Than all this running,
​screaming and crying loud.
​Eat, sleep, and repeat.
​Until the last breath is taken.
​This is not my way.
​I want to see love
​in both our eyes.
​And to show you my
​heart has listened.
​The choice is no longer mine.
​You are my goodness,
​you are my love.
​So then, why don’t we?

​In the end there was
​no space for correction.
​No space for
​the wayside grass.
​Just survival.
And ​when the burning
coals ceased their glow.
The breath returned.
A life on the streets,
not one tapped out online.
Fanned with the heart
and with a poets soul.
This is how to gain
a life of sight…..
and live to tell the tale.
​

For some, there is
only love for a week.
Life in the factories,
the airport or late night
mahjong drinking games.
Takes its toll.
Nothing is spoken or written.
And still the desires want to play.
As for me?

My heart wanted.
My soul wanted.
And reaching each root
I found the key
A woman who
reaches the fresh leaves
and merged with me.
A slow soaking – of love.
​