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.
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.
I guess I loved too deeply, couldn’t help myself.
Don’t come any closer, it only hurts me more.
I gave my heart to you, my mind and spirit too,
but still you cannot see me clearer, you don’t want to.
Will I ever walk these broken streets again?
I thought you loved me more, my rosebush friend,
and if I must surrender these streets I love,
I pray you will one day remember it was you I loved.
What things hands have wrought
of strength and life and deed and thought,
of miserly mystery sight unseen
strong and sound of king and queen.
When wonder dances all the round
and quietly sings the song unsound,
then light and truth and beauty true
surround us all with love anew.