Little
flowers
opened
as you
kissed me
lightly,
the petals
under the
moonlight
dance,
we wore
the robes
of the stars,
and gazed
upon the
tides, we
wondered
how they
beheld
a dream,
always
there
as the
sea of
our
arms,
gilded
in silver
scales,
returning
to a
home
where
you keep
these
hands of
mine
close, be
delicate,
for you
hold my
heart
and
yours.

The poet
of the night
closed her
eyes, and
dreamed of
little stars
as details
in the small
moment of
beauty she
beheld, as a
painting
once hidden,
now coming
alive before
her eyes, as
wondrous
as when
she had
first
met the
pages
of a book,
and held
them
more
dearest
than the
petals of
a flower
held close
to her
heart,
forever in
bloom.

Dunes
fall on
the shore
of skin,
a poet
closes
her eyes,
in a place
beyond
our own,
the sands
felt soft
upon her
hands, her
thoughts
as water,
in wonder
if they
are
here,
or in
dream,
the grains
of time
under
lights
of the
moon
are her
tides
upon the
sand
hills
of the
stars,
the
guides
above
hold the
hidden
songs,
heard only
in silence,
clouds
emerge, the
monsoon
of spirit
chants
the words
of the
writer
painted
in rain
upon
pages,
dew falls
upon the
palms,
the poet
gazes
upon the
skies, her
hymn is
heard,
“are you
near,
or the
breath
of mine?”,
the winds
rise, the
desert
calls,
“are
you I?”

When you see something truly
beautiful, time becomes one infinite
moment infracted in a million
particles of light within your eyes
In the beauty of silence, you feel and
hear everything come alive, when
you see the smallest details come alive as
delicate, blooming flowers opening for
the awakened heart opening itself for the once
unseen, tonight, a little miracle happened,
I looked up and i asked
within my mind, "oh night,
why is it i cannot see a light
in your dark sea?" then,
suddenly a star appeared
before my eyes, and the soul
within me allows it’s
windows to open so the
light could shine through.

A sensitive
little white
flower,
opens
her
petals
by the
opening
of lunar
light,
seeking
to heal
others
as they
lie in their
dreams, she
whispers
to them
within
their
hearts,
“hear 
these
words, 
and 
allow 
me 
to take 
care 
of you, 
allow my 
petals to 
heal your 
wounds, 
I will gently 
touch your 
tears and 
dissolve 
them 
within 
my own
heart”
the soft
wind
tousles
her, the
butterfly
touched
upon the
flowers
heart,
“tell
me the
secret
to flight”
the fragile
one asked,
it flew
again
into the
nightly
hour,
she felt
a dew,
she
looked
up and saw
the florist,
who
sung
to her,
“the
secret
is love,
where
it is,
there
is flight”

The flowers meet as the  
words of thought, the
leaves touch in the
wind, here, you share
the little poems of the
earth with me, I hold
you close under the
sun, we are in each
other arms as a
blanket in a place
where we will both feel
safe and untorn in the
warm amber glow, healing
our sore souls in our gentle
sleep, I will say to you in
silence, “the answer of your
existence is my home”.

Allow
me to
fly
far in
your
arms
as the  
leaves
in the
wind,
I soar
in the
tides
of the
sky,
I am
lost in
the
skies
above,
my soles
touch the
clouds,
the gaze
of my soul
has seen
and known
each thing
as you,
deep is
its song
in colors
of stars,
indigo
and
art,
I touch
the white
fields,  
and,
there
you are,
the breath
of your
embrace
opens,
I am lost,
the roses
in your
eyes hold
me close,
understand how you
take my
heart
as your  
silent
whisper
and call,
“stargirl,
awaken
in the
chests
of those
who had
never
known
of their
light”
I ask,
“how
can they
not know
of it”, to
which you
answered,
“the
broken
souls,
they seek
and know
not of how
it was
always
there”
your
words
became
my wings
opening, to the
darkness,
I cry,
“surrender!”
and all
became
love,
the only
home.