The Hour of your Heart

it's in the hour of your heart
the world splits, and your silence
is torn apart, for a moment, the world is clear
and fears of loss, disappear from my eyes
from yours, i can see tomorrow in today
wash the will away, with a breath, with a kiss
on your lips, undresses for the moment
undressed with a wish, of loving, of leaving
of finding truth where forgiveness has forgotten
all in words, is resurrected from the depths of my soul
where the hunger lies, and death, never seeks to find me there
in this hour, of your heart

Waiting

The hunger units us. Binds us together. We fight for the spirit. The longing to be free. To wander in a place, where all souls unite. And can truly see. All the color. The light. The beauty of truth, and the truth that beauty makes. When the waves of tomorrow roll over and over, undulate in our fascination. In our hearts. Such a place exists in dream. In art. A life of a thousand kisses. The life of a thousand splendors. Each different. Unique. For no two of us are the same. And your dreams are radically different than mine. So where we all meet, must contain all the dreams we each have had. The colors and light we've seen, when we close our eyes. And in this place, I feel a calm will wash over us all. In the waters that soothe. In the moments, where we all choose to simply be. Not afraid of love, loss, and the pain of memory. We all shall belong here. In the tides of this emerald moon. Somewhere I know it is waiting, and some day, I know, she will be found.

The beginning

The beginning. A natural start, to some. A unnatural beginning, to others. It is the following that finds me. It is the tears that cleanse me. Somewhere, somehow, in between the rays of light, the blankets of night, I am nurtured in some forgotten comfort. Some forgotten warmth, that in these moments, guides me toward tomorrow. I single myself out, out of all the crowds. The mass phalanx of people, running, breathing, dancing, living, loving, to seek out, what tomorrow might bring. In the learning of truth, I wonder what is left to believe. What is left to see. When all the colors, are right here, in front of me. A dash of forgiveness runs on through me. A dash of pleasure gives me a moment to sigh. And through it all, I know I do belong. Perhaps not in the rivers and streams, the oceans vast, far beyond my dreams. No, somewhere else. In the rain caught on a leaf. In a moment, shone true in the darkness of deceit. Yes, I am there. Covered. Yet visible true. In this beginning, that I bestow on to you.