My fingers felt those synthetic polyester fibers
Small little worm like strings
Moving as my hands made waves
Moss amongst the water
Seaweed in the current

Ripping them up,
Unplanting them all
Tossing them to burn
Little strands of law and order
I sought deeper
Driven to my end

Repetition drove me
Pulling, tugging at those roots
Of your history
Tearing at the surface
Plastic woven particles
Frayed times gone past

I couldn’t cease, stop, leave
The beginning had begun
Closer I came
Yet knowing unnamed

In the movement of the motion
Those peaks fed my yearning
An underground history
To explore
Impossible to cease
I hungered for more

I held those fibers of truth
The dirt was ridden with a story,
Discovered, unearthed
My thirst fulfilled

I came to you, oh mighty land
Asleep to everything at hand
Lethargic from more southern air
Not yet awakened, unaware
The panorama I beheld
Composed a view unparalleled
A pastor with his best endeavor
Could preach forever and forever
And never say with words as clear
As the aura of this atmosphere
In the awe inspiring craggy peaks
And the chasms as His silence speaks
Where His creation stirs conviction
That brings a balming benediction
To one that hungers for a proof
Here, upon the planets roof

i put my voice into a jar,
and mixed it with lightning for you.
your tears made the sun shine brighter.

you had birds in your mouth and sunlight dripping from your eyelashes.
i promised i wouldn't speak if you wouldn't change faces twice an hour.
we made conversation under a tree and sleep-walked through your kitchen.
i couldn't stare for your poetry disguised as fingers, always moved your hands.

i opened your window and slid to the street, took a walk with the recycling.
my hands looked tired the next morning, and you wouldn't take no.
when the lights fell asleep, we ran for the boats and slipped into the water.
the moon smiled and pulled us apart, i never matched your shoes again.

It's too soon to live in memories
I try to convince myself
Years don't change everything
I try to convince myself
This is no prison I'm living in
I have the keys, the locks are not broken
I try to convince myself I have a reason
For not using them

Grab a pen and some paper
Some of these are important
I just know they are
These are the things that made me what I am
Aren't they?
The sum total of all my experiences, right?
I need to chronicle and catalog
Separate the wheat from the chaff
This will set me straight
Or maybe not...could be a waste of time

Time takes them away, one by one
Teases, bringing some back
Then snatching them away again
Despite my best efforts
To hoard them
Years don't change everything
The cruel workings of time
Are eternal

Of this I am convinced

I've sacrificed freedom
To live in a cage
To settle for memories
For fear that hurt would break in
And make itself comfortable
Quick to remind me of the memories
It helped make

I'm convinced I have no reason
To break these chains
An empty house, alone
Is better than such bad company

Soft shall be the calling of flowering trees that speak in rain
So it is now as I watch by the side of the way
Listening to the softest drops attain
A hush of silence as they fade

These flowers alone carry a mysterious splendor
Passing surprise into what I know
Pouring their calling out to hearts in wonder
Breathing new life as they go

In my heart of hearts, I hold a love to hear this call
Softly speaking with truth so sweet
Pouring out, as each drop falls
From flowering trees
In crystal sheets

Soft shall be my reply to flowering trees that speak in rain
As I brush my cheek against their splendor
I will always want their drops of calling to remain
As I watch by the side of the way
In silent wonder