Its a hunger
A thirst
Desire is
It's like oxygen
Or
A savage beast
Needs to be met

Shower
Curtained eyes
Only nakedness
Behind

Wanting a thing to hold onto
A piece of a tree a twig
The fur of a cat
The psalms in the air
Wanting

At its best a thirst
Hunger pangs
The mist
A salty sea breeze
On aqua
Cliffs

Selecting a rock
On the beaches
Drifts
So many so
Soft

Hold that thought of
Soft squishes
Standing
An eye
To the
Sky
A hand on a
Rock

A
Breath

Themes thesis'
As common as leaves
As seasons
And round how it spins
Upon that hill
I sit upon
Late for work
Again
Contemplating
Whippoorwhills
Doves
And squirrels play
Another day
Sitting
Upon a hill
Like a child
With no
Worries
Again
For
Just a while

A where's
Just is
Becomes the say we
Meet there on
The lawn
Nervous feet dig
Trembling eyes
Clasp
Wanting

.        Tear in the eye
     wound in the heart

   Teardrops ... that drip
       from these eyes
  shall never be hidden
No mask of humiliation
          shall cloak
   an empathetic soul

Tears fall without shame ...

   Cleansing tears wept
       of undisguised
   merciful surrender,
  purging the essence
    of mending heart;
         shamelessly
       pouring forth,
            unsifted 
     grain and chaff
     together as one
   to willingly exhale
compassionate breathe ―
     into a sympathy
  impoverished  world

      Being mindful ―
      never wanting
   misspoken words
         to further
     another’s pain
      when there is
   an unwillingness
to unveil the very core,
the wisdom of silence
             reveals

Lean into imperfection's blossoms …

    Embrace the light
     from disregarded
           tears shed,
   releasing the traces
   of the spirit of love
      within the soul

         Blessed be
     the empathetic
         almsgiver
consoling with love
       without pity
       Giving love
        is to share
    unconditionally
with eternal purpose;
      flooding forth
   a flow of empathy
         onto a love
     deprived world …

       Love more ~


                                                          ­      *Harlon Rivers

When the wind blows
And the rhythm flows
My spirit glows

When the tide is high
And blue is the sky
My spirit tends to fly

When the sun is bright
And dark is the night
My spirit turns to light

When you are near
And consume my fear
My spirit grows to hear

Your beat within mine
Your love within me
Your voice tune fine
Your spirit dwells with mine...*


©sim

i've been seeing ghosts for
as long as i can remember now.
they sit idly on my bed,
              making small talk with
the skeletons who play poker
on my closet floor.
they call. flush, straight,
empty hands as the cards fall through
the gaps between their fingers.
together they brush worries
out of my hair, one by one.
they have nothing else to do,
                      and neither do i.

as strands of my hair are
placed gently behind my ear.
they speak to me,
but mostly among themselves.
"i can't tell you when it gets better, kid.
i can't tell you if it ever does."