Don't forego the innocence of creation
We weep the same salty tears as our mother's
The same clearing air fills our lungs with song
The bristled brush strokes and black pencil marks
Have seen the same hallowed curve through time
Let us fall into our place on the arc of our story
We forget our truths in each mornings rise
Rejecting the lines that just yesterday we drew
Until each day it is written anew.  By you.
Or else rejected as trite, an artifact of life
Rejected by years and years of tribalism
There can be nothing new under the sun
So scratch and awl the patterns and patches
Or remember the innocence, the open patch
Between the trees where sun breathes life
Into your skin and eyes and mouth.
Where breezes set the color of your mind
and Your tune buzzes beneath the countenance of your love.