Sleeping beauty,
waiting...
for the kiss to set her free,
riding public transit trains
westward...
her destination is the sea.
To breathe that ocean air
deep into her being,
to exhale her essence onto the horizon
and be the aura of a dream.
Intertwined into the shoreline
of the pacific currents end
the native elders called her priestess
in the legends that they penned.
she's the rain to fuel the harvest
before the winter comes
****** up by the silver linings
of clouds out on the run,
her heartbeat is the thunder
before the lightnings tongue
licks the sky & pounds the earth
like a head stretched tight atop a drum,
and her voice is like the whispers
floating on the breeze
leaked out through a smile
that's been rustled up by Autumn leaves.
- From Through Our Hands We Speak From The Heart