Return

Happy is the man!
Content is the fire
that swells
within a torrid heart.

Brief is our dance
with an ephemeral gasp.
Crowded, our thoughts,
with a deluge of fearsome
longings.

Twist off.
Sheared and shorn
like a slaughtered lamb.

Dream of collated light
through a broken canopy.
Warm sighs.

A Soul that Wept

I have gazed upon
the new forged world.
Drunk deeply of
her boiling waters.
Chewed her jagged
crystaline stone.

I have embraced
the sun as a brother.
I have held
the moon as a daughter.

The wind holds my mirth.

I have beheld
in wonder
a creeping dawn
rake across a sleeping people.
I have seen them wake in
bleary, wet eyed yearning
and dream yet still with timid groans.