Lips make the sweetest promises
That could hook me like a lure

Lips make the dearest promises
That I am loved and cared for

Lips make the kindest promises
That I won’t be lonely anymore

Lips make the greatest promises
But…
I’ve heard them all before

Instead of paper, here you are.
Rather than dust, here you are,
removing the world of its
human fingerprints.

Like a flicker of the sun,
a shaving of light, you soar
across the trembling flowers,
calming them with your weightless touch.

Dancing on air,
you suspend in the space,
spreading an earthly joy
into the wind, into the silent sound.
The breeze, your raja, the sun your mantra,
and I, your beholder.

Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle,
Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong.
Think rather,--call to thought, if now you grieve a little,
The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long.

Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry
I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn;
Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry:
Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born.

Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason,
I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun.
Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season:
Let us endure an hour and see injustice done.

Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation;
All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain:
Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation--
Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again?