Yes, I remember the cage you provided for singing birds. You spoke of a shelter from the sky. At the very the end of the hardest day. But the doubt roared within me. And I wondered, how is everyone still sleeping and still listening for love? Even though I wasn’t dead, chest heaving and eyes weeping, you said a mantra, or two at my grave stone. As if you were a re-spun sinner, redeeming your soul at the very end of the hardest day.
The cool breeze with all her strength, to take me away from here. With your words, the temple bell tolls- even among the insects. It’s enviable, the beauty and gracefulness of a magpies love. Its spirit plays, like faint footprints on the sand. I am no longer waiting for the end. Or the dreams of sheltering sleepers. For my dreams are fertile, and full of stars that stir. Come with me tonight, and you will shiver under my caress. And I will drink your perfumed kisses. Then, we will fulfil the night.
I brought the ghosts with me She brought her love, too precious to be lost. Where the tongues meet, a deviation from equilibrium. Earth and high heaven no longer fixed. And where my hand is set, my soul shall be.
It will finish, soon enough. Engineered by a few good friends. And a magpies love, a single hope in a vast sky. Now I know, that from the darkness of the poison plants, a new day begins. After all, we are summer people.
Under a summer sky, we watched a film together. The one about ancient times. Outside, cicadas sang the night away. And swimming towards essence, you let me touch your body. The weight of your soul in my hands. A tender lust, no longer forlorn. And heaven grew wild, once again.
A zen master said ’ There are ten thousand things called delusion’ I don’t know about that, maybe there are more. But how many know the way? Once, when it seemed that no green earth remained. You appeared, a vision of a great travelling revolution. And wasted no thought, to open everything skyward. Showing me the way, to new raindrops of love.
On these hot summer evenings. Souls from the past, send their warm smiles. Like tiny birds in a desert, trying to find their way home. But, I also see the present – in the spirit, and in the dust. And you stand ajar, offering your body and soul. All forming to rise. This is life again, indeed.
From the sky, nervous wings flicker. Catching a ladybug, I think. As the heat gains its peak. Only the whisperings of wings, homemade with love. Fan the breezes, till the very end.
A Wandering Poet 