Man is not meant to be alone
Yet down this path I shall go
Through forest tall and valley low

The road stretches
Beyond my sight
The world is cold
As if at night

The stars they fall
And pass away
Darkness bleeds
On into day

I stumble forward
Through rock and thorn
Continuing on
My path forlorn

When light I see
I'll close my eyes
And with the sun
I too shall rise

Man is not meant to be alone
Yet down this path I shall go
Through forest tall and valley low
Ever onward I shall go

There is a storm
gathering in
            my womb
soon to explode
into a thousand
crimson stars
lighting up
my veins with fire
and unraveling
deep-set,
          knotted scars
and the gentle rage
outside my window
presses on, inside my head
as I lie here,
my thoughts twisted
in a cozy, yet empty bed
my thoughts unfurl
in misty haze
           curl into
                      smoky
                 rouge
as nightsky thunder rolls
into creamed saxophone
                          deluge
the snare drum beats
in firelight
ripple sheets
in silky flutter
as my fingers strum
my womanly instruments
into loamy, primal butter
my voice in quiet utterance
as the heavens open
           to heavy rains
                    that liquefy
                           my desert
                 hydrate my
           bare-soul caves
so I electrify my echoes
into fruited, crystal drips
frothing up my
cherry wine
upon these moistened,
hungry lips