the golden age will start
when children of the father
and children of the mother
join hands in the realization
that they are sister and brother
all living lives of loving each other

and in seeing the beauty in all
ignorance and judgment will fall

and so let it begin
and let it begin with me

the poem of the forest
is rustled by the tree
the whale tones
the song of the sea
the eagle refrains
the hymn of the sky
but the vulture's verse
is silence when you die
so make your verse with pen or voice
before old buzzard makes his choice

and the years fall away
like pages torn noiselessly
from the skin-bound book of my life

and dropped from a magnificent height
they flutter samara-style slow
lighting upon the dusty hardwood floor
like feathers piling up softly, silently
as they clutter the the library of me

and i sift through the pages
scavenging for gilded gold
but instead i find only me
and for once, that is enough

and for once, i am enough







.

written in each sunrise with watercolor ink
for all of her beloved children to see
the mother paints with the light she receives
creating beauty and sharing it openly

and sometimes, i feel
she does it just for me

the heart-fire grown cold
in the face of his demons
but from the ashes within
a phoenix awakens

and by spreading his wings
he swirls a hot wind
and ignites lifeless love
through being a friend