Today,
I just wanna die in your arms,

I hope that you took the CPR course
to save me!

On the sad day I discovered you
Would no longer requite my love,
My world was torn asunder.
I fell to my knees in vain attempt
To cadge some trace of fondness -
Some kindred feeling, perhaps, of love
But alas, there was no shred of
Kindness offered to my plea -
No hope of any love restored,
Which meant the undertaker’s man
Must undertake arrangement of
A testimonial gathering to mourn
The loss of my true love and life.
       ljm

With desperation dripping off my chin
I scurry around this way and that
Trying to catch up the herd that
Knowingly is leaving me behind

I trip on stones I couldn’t see
Through all the rainstorm on my face
And stumble even further back behind

With need that pushes hunger off the list
I strive for things not physical
But nebulous and indistinct
That shimmer in the distance
And are always out of reach
         ljm

When the night falls,
and no one’striking with an eye,
My restless horses rove
with the wild Siberian winds,
Their whinnying voices call me,
Voices call me, and I scream!

Slowly, Slowly, my horses!
Do not fly into the wild winds,
Please! Slowly, don’t you see,
I didn’t have time to live!      

Understand me, my horses,
Let me sing! One more song!
Feel my deepest yearning,
for you and for the lost time.

For no time to laugh,
and for no time to cry,
For no time to love,
and no time to touch a
weeping heart.

Please! Listen, my horses,
Do not hurry! Voices call me,
Oh, how you can ride so fast?
Follow my solace in y’footsteps,
Ride on my waters, and
I’ll drink y'golden promise.

Take me on your winter sleigh,
Amble along, dance your shyness
in the wildest Siberian snow flurry,
and I’ll sing you my only song,
“I am not a prisoner.”

Let me sing! One more song!
and I’ll bring’y the apple from heaven,
and I’ll kiss you one last time,
when no one hits with an eye.

Carry me my dear horses,
Slowly, like this, Slowly, please!
When no one hunts in the sky,
and the hungry wind’s blindsight.

Please! My horses,
Slow down, Slow, Slow down,
I am loosing my powers,
and I didn’t have time to live! 

The show comes to the end,
and I can’t hear you galloping,
and I can’t see your cavalcade,
the show comes to the end,
and I lose your reins in the wind.

Please! My horses,
slow down, move slow, listen,
Please!
I didn’t have time to live!

How do you know that you take the best way when there are so many ways of being in this world of eternal music, poetry and mystery unveiling the dance of the swans and the hardship of the smith.

How do you know that you wake up for your day and not somebody else’s day and you wear your body, and carry your thoughts on your shoulders, through the mountains and hills, until you wish to reach some destination and rest down the load of the day?

Do you ask what road to walk?
when there are so many forest roads to take, how do you know, when others drive on highways, that promise to reach sooner and faster at any visioned destination.

Do you believe in destination, in a beginning and in an end, and it is not imagination creating the wholeness that already exists and you move to through it at inconceivable speed.

How do you know you do your duty and not somebody else’s duty is taken away by advice, surprise, need or greed,

How do you know that you are writing your own poem, and not somebody else’s poem founds it’s own way of touching your heart, words and mind, despite your mother’s imagery, words come to you as wizards disguised in freedom and intimacy begging your ink waking the spirit of lovers, nations or angels sleeping in sun’s rays?

How do you know that you wear your
own skin and not somebody else's skin, God’s garment for earthy flesh that swims in waters and blood on one side and touched by mountains on the other, that never can be washed and shaped like a river wish, nor tore apart and killed with your own hands as it belongs to its Creator, while you keep believing owning it as a piece of iron armour, God’s trust embodied in skin shining light back. Tell me human of ignorance and disguise, tell me, tell me,
What would you do if you would know that your skin is not your own skin?
Would you be happy, or disappointed?

How do you know your lover is your soulmate and not somebody else's soulmate
when there are so many hungry souls in this world starving and craving for the same soul and for that same love, day and night, salty tears falling on hope’s feathers
dreaming of a reunion.

Do you believe in destination, in a beginning and in an end, and it is not imagination creating the wholeness that already exists and you move through it at inconceivable speed.

How do you know what road to walk
when there are so many forest roads to take when others drive on highways, that promise to take them sooner and faster at any visioned destination.

How do you know that your dream is your own dream and not somebody else's dream at night’s taking shape of bridges, stairs to
rainbows and brides, fairies flying over rivers of kisses at the black sea, embracing lovers sleeping in fields of yellow flowers.

Oh, Life are you the one, or are you the many? How do you know?