Blue as the geography
of footprints across the dunes
quiet as the white music
of a silent moon
like the wind blowing
the soul off the water
the shadows go out
and are lost in the evening
I conclude the hypothesis
of sundown making no sound
while night climbs the vines
where lowing sadness abides
the ritual of tides pulls me under.

If I could find the connection between each raindrop,
     No matter how infinitesimal,
I know I'd be *OK

You set
Your face flush
Against a prop
  
With that slight
Smirky smile of yours
And I question
  
Does beauty fade
Then your eyes brighten
And time stands still

You have existed seventeen years,
And blossomed into a man of integrity.
The seasons pass, but you remain grand.
Your kindness and warmth bless this land.

Seventeen years, a tiny fraction of time,
Yet your decency resonates like a chime.
Your arms have been my anchor these years,
Your mind open to me, you have listening ears.

I am stunned by your resilience.
For it speaks of your love for life.
You do not realize how much you love this place,
For it has caused those tears on your face.

Continue growing, my resilient flower,
My resilient man of power.
I will love you for all of infinity,
This connection the boldest of affinities.

Happy birthday, you have aged one more year,
And you grow wiser with each day.
I love you, my handsome prince,
You and I are here to stay.

Time may heal all wounds,
But it kisses goodbye with scars.

You peel
back the
        skin
& we are
the same,
hearts
     beating
beneath flesh,
       organs
translucent
as scaly fish
beneath the
        surface
of a lake,
life clearer
now judged
by the
weight of
        a soul,
almond
shaped versus
deep bowl
too heavy
          to hold,
things obscure
before stand
        clear as
stars pressed
         against
the night sky,
as your red
twisted veins
hand
in hand with
           mine.

Sometimes the trees sing our song
Whispering through the budding branches
They mourn our loss
And then they bloom.

Everything turns to dust someday.
We learn to hang from a thread.
Everything will fall apart someday.
We stifle tears when we lie in bed.

If you believe in the Christian God,
Then he made us from dust.
Science declares the same thing,
That we were made from dust.

From dust we came,
And dust again we will be.
That is the truth,
One day you will see.

There will be little left,
Of you or me.
Our bodies will come to rest,
Our souls finally free.

Kiss me until
all the metaphors
vanish and poetry
becomes reality.

  ~mce