My mother's eyes have known the things that move inside my brain
And if you ask her what she sees her answer will not change
Her voice is like a lullaby, she sings to give you rest
Enduring through the brokenness - my children, you are blessed
Remember where my father's been and what he gave to me
I tell you this because he too, once swam inside the sea
The thoughts you choose to follow out will lead you where you wish
But when the water disappears do not remain a fish
The air cannot accommodate the ones who need to drink
So recognize the time you take in every way you think

to mine -

for what is my flame to your fire?

God.

God is the shapes
on my ceiling.
He is the sliver of light
filtered through my window.

God is the thirty-inch space
between roof & fallen branch.
He is the kiss of dew drops
& the breeze on my neck.

God is the flame
of discipline.
He is the declaration
of saddened exile.

God is goosebumps
that proclaim "I hear you!"
He is the rise &
the fall of empires.

God is the sky
which engulfs all
in loving despair.

I don't know what the numbers mean, they float inside my head
I count them in between the ticks I try to put to bed
And if there's any logic left you will not find it here
Considering the apathy has made itself unclear

Or can you force the senses to appease another thought
To find a new beginning where you've tied a tighter knot
Suppose interdependency be vaguely unaware
Of any past security you swore was ever there

The case for explanations then, may need to be adjourned
In retrospect, the evidence has already been burned
So if you'd like to sup the ash, then turn it into bread
The stove is set, the fire hot, the recipe - regret

If my fear
is an illusion,
so is my
hope.