and the years fall away
like pages torn noiselessly
from the skin-bound book of my life

and dropped from a magnificent height
they flutter samara-style slow
lighting upon the dusty hardwood floor
like feathers piling up softly, silently
as they clutter the the library of me

and i sift through the pages
scavenging for gilded gold
but instead i find only me
and for once, that is enough

and for once, i am enough







.

the golden age will start
when children of the father
and children of the mother
join hands in the realization
that they are sister and brother
all living lives of loving each other

and in seeing the beauty in all
ignorance and judgment will fall

and so let it begin
and let it begin with me

blanketed in a polar cold
woven by the hollow sun
the hibernating hills
dream of sultry days
and the return
of forsaken love

a book with no cover
lies in our bones
depths of experience
no one else knows
guiding our words
by memories enclosed
written with hearts
by minds void of prose