Truffle true, honey blue, laying low in heather dew.
Flight of fancy, dancing strife, searching for that sweeter life.
Children made and children sold, the blackest black and honey gold.
Mix and mix and fly it round, in hypnotizing, buzzing sound.
And if I or else of you should sing, stick us with your sticky sting.
I spat in the water and the children of slaughter,
who were standing behind me, looking out at the green sea,
took a hold of the east wind, bringing dust and disaster,
as they danced in their circle, growing louder in laughter.
I washed in the water of the daughters of slaughter,
running quickly before me, drinking out of the green sea.
Knowing well of the west wind, turning faster and faster,
they too danced in the circle, weeping now the disaster.
I like the feel of my shoulder,
not as strong but better older.
I squeeze the flesh around the bone
enjoying well the sense of home.
Skin soft like running water,
proof of love from son and daughter.
I feel my blood alive and warm
running free, a pretty storm.
Comfort comes and worry goes,
like faith and hope it ebbs and flows.
But one thing is sure and truly true,
the love and hunger I find in you.
Eyes so blue, heart so true,
His mark all over you.
Painted sinner, blessed saint,
chosen river, lovely quaint.
Joy delight, soul so bright
His loves flows out of you.
Glowing flower, truest friend,
fullest desert, no pretense.
And I love you from my deepest heart,
surrendered to your pure, deep strain.
I will keep you here, hidden in my soul,
through joy and tears and purest pain
Heart so kind, spirit sweet,
Dance me down your secret street.
Open sky, sunrise pure,
Hidden treasure, golden door.
Heaven kiss, Spirit touch,
His power sung through you.
Chosen lips, flowing hands,
Spirit light, we understand.
Lurking the smaller spaces, avoiding familiar faces, searching deep the singular traces, hoping for undiscovered places.
Trusting the undiscovered, loving the never mothered, touching the other worldly, restlessly wandering.
Voicing the unspoken, forgiving the forgiven, opening the solemn, learning how the listen.
Landscape loved and sadness, dancing through the madness, for in all of us is greatness, diligent and faceless.
Music is the being, troublesome and freeing, tricky with the living, assuming with the dead.
The younger are stronger though the shadows grow longer.
As we hunger for hunger they play with new thunder.
The record is broken by language unspoken, and though the load may be lighter, the circles grow tighter.
I thought I was on the path, my road tried and true, I surrendered all and sacrificed even more.
But now I find that what I left behind wasn’t what You required.
And if You ask me if I have been true what do want me to say to You?
Should I speak and run away or coming to Your side, hide in it.
Is is true? Can I give myself to You?
Do I want to? Do I have to?
I know You see what I sell of me.
Is the price enough to cover all the stuff, and if I think I’m free am I still really me?
Now I see better than before what I am truly here for.
The words you spoke over me for which you paid so dearly could free me.
I can see that what You see is not the one I see, but who You are making me is You showing Yourself more freely.
And as I see myself in You, do you see Yourself in me too?
Sad flows the pristine street, mother nature fringing sweet, souls drowning in steady beat.
Glancing now a furrowed brow, lies smiling and hurried low, touching not the air we breath.
Green is good or so we hear, and broken what we hold so dear. Cracks and crimes, dollars and dimes, now we bow, sinking quietly to ground.
And yes, the sun is shining, within it’s own dirty lining, bringing lies to those who seek truth from all created speak.