Tiny Buried Star

I want you all to know
I want you all to know
That I was there and saw a face
That I was there and saw a face
I came upon a little house
I came upon a little house
And well within that little house
A tiny, buried star
A star kept cradled in a bed
And deep within that burning bed
A mote of fear
A mote of love
A brightly burning life.

A Drunk Man Sings Bob Marley

A drunk man sings Bob Marley in the street below while I enjoy a weed high and write bad poetry. A lifetime ago, there would have been tears, but now I feel so much there’s no reaction powerful enough to convey what I’m feeling. I just sit and listen and silently hope that one day the world will remember to love.

WIP: I Have Seen the Ocean of Light

The World calls into being Another, one who will live awhile. Who will learn what it’s like to be singing and dancing, to know an embrace made of tears. But also to learn how to dream and to question, to also be peaceful and strong. To learn what is perfect and pure. The world that is hurting, another, another. A gentleness ushers love in. In the cradle of gold light, a Source made of beauty. Another, another, arise. Into forever and beyond all knowing. Beyond, beyond, beyond. All things we know passing. Another is being awakened. A calm wind. A silence. An echo of approaching dark. But there in the dark, a solitary light source. The brief interlude of our waking.