Call for that which moves today above your broken wings
with perfect timing familiar as your dreams.
Tonight, what is true will not accuse how you feel
or tell you what to write
in a torrent of questioning schemes.

Declare that I have something the world loves to place
in glass windows forever to be considered
as part of their past.
To once again be able to face themselves
in the morning and have the will to claim
something that will last.

Tell me that the air I breathe is full of wonder and new life
that no nightmare could ever ask
to be part of its story.
When I sit in the moonlight
let me inhale with devotion
instead of spinning inside a shadow’s quarry.

Remember nothing but that which you hear singing
from a soul with no fear,
a sound more beautiful than the wind.  
It flows like a drink from a cup,
almost deeper than love itself
when seen through the eyes of that which moves
above your broken wings.

A path to evening drops into life
like a maze full of sin.
Complete with smiles
no poet can divide.
Protection from the air is grim
same as a marriage
woven in a mist
of distrust and lies.

A sad, sad spell enchants your hands
when you lie naked
in the shadows of wanting more.
You cannot help but wonder
if this means
you are dead to the skies
lying between anguish
and the path to evening, keeping score.

Your feet fill in the gaps
saying farewell to sacrifice
when midnight strikes
yet does not save you again.  
You cannot walk the path to evening
if you do not know
your way out
of the maze full of sin.

Midnight leaps into a different glory,
can you see the silence
masking the world as it changes?
If we listen to the wind
lost souls will speak of love
found within walls
where soft lips eloquently tell
of simple grace and praises.

Stop and look upon a puzzle
where no noise can be heard
but a light shines here and there
burning the same as warm champagne.
Subtle I want you’s fill the air
with smiles,
removing cries,
painting over the pain.

Watch the way satisfaction focuses
on the windowsill of beauty
then places its hope
in the experience proved.
This is when music is made for guidance
and is felt softly inside your head,
heard each time you move.

Our thirst is quenched then framed by a smile
that courageously enters
like the voice of the sun.
Existence writes notes delivered by birds
who wait to tell our story
in ways that move us into one.

Who saw midnight
when it leaped into a different glory?
Could it have been the eyes
that saw silence masking?
Masking into the tapestry
that speaks of love
found within the walls
and is ours for the asking.

The smallest pieces of life contain laws written in stone
for the world to lose interest in kind.
They can be easily read in the dark then left to remain
as still as a man
who is more than just a bit color-blind.

Sometimes I sit within varied distances from it all,
breaking into my life,
when all I want to do is advise
the sun to shine.  
Because I know, a smile can make a break
flourish into the clearing
we can only hope to find.

I realize how fantastically black the sky can be
and how its state
saves all the words of love
and their simplicity.
Secrets granted from them sometimes say
that life is not fair
when it pierces the souls’ of you and me.

Bound inside a myriad of righteousness
we tried a million times
to offer up the friends of our needs.
Until honesty went down on its knees
seeking to live on the conviction it studies,
in order to continue to breathe.

I have pulled repeatedly from the prayers
I held deep inside mirrors,
in order once again to find my shining sun.
However, often, overturning truth
is a journey best remembered as a failure,
failing to reach out or help a single one.

Can all judgment be silent and still believed
when it comes in on the emotions
we sometimes bend into a shield?  
Stranger in your sight is how they burn,
even when your body moves to erase the way
last night made you feel.

Sometimes I wonder if each page of life
that wanders sincerely into light,
finds the  deepest waves of darkness
attempting to recreate streams of painful fire.
Is the light’s glory not held inside a sea of calm
you would swim to acquire?

Sometimes thoughts of my own
seem able to imprison my words,
break them in half and try and become
someone’s fantasies.
They cast sleeping inspiration upon my morning
with a murmur falling by the side
of my heart’s mysteries.

All of my problems glance easily
off different sides of stones
placed in the dust
I tend to keep beneath my feet.
My eyes see them come undone
until they are no longer fit
to sail with me
or drink from my cup
where all beauty is sweet.

Shamed by care Fear smiles and flutters
behind every forceful word heard
through the translucency it retains.
All of my confidence that has separated
then faces itself to meditate
on all that is brightly lit,
here to remain.

The ground does not pass judgment
same as a soldier leaps to exhibit nobleness
throughout this hemisphere
full of thinking men.
However, greed can leave you
half-empty and ill prepared
for thoughts that will imprison
your words like the wind.

I make headway over the side of dominion
ruling the air of darkness
where fairness becomes one
among the living.
I find I am passing over
what has become sand
within a waterfall,
falling from on high,
due to my misgivings.

I am aware that beneath the taste of a last appearance
the deepest thoughts
can cover those minutes we use.
However, little do we see,
time and time again,
sometimes we tear the best there is
within a man, right in two.

You hold the fruit of my pathways
during storms that could chill the shores
of the blackest hearts.  
Forming bracelets that encircle my soul
until I am down on my knees
knowing wherever you go I will follow
because I am your other part.

You hold in store a truth that sweeps across me
with a brilliance speaking slowly and softly
like the stars affection for the moon.  
My heart beats in solid measure with your own,
same as starlight removes
a shadows downcast of gloom.

You spill into my sleep and kiss me with understanding
behind the blossoming beauty calling from years
of not being held,
breathing life into that which never beat with love.
Until what mattered most
found it adored the kiss finally felt.

My days ripple with the finest occupation of creation,
pressing against my tongue
as a breeze of the sweetest wine.  
I hold your words on the air of eternity
and pray they always tell me
you will hold me
whenever I am looking for
all I need to find.

Could I be defeated by love so sweet
moving in echoes
across an immense hidden wheel of fate,
spinning memories?
Would the eyes of birds then bid farewell
to contentment
by removing the shroud of flight
finely covering me?

If I sang, a song scarcely heard
on the breath of impossibility,
could someone chime in with a glance of time
returning me to dust?
Or would it never shed into the places
where they set out in ships full of water
from the Fountain of Lust?

I once said the touch of a journey at first value
is held within the heart as a home
where faith has a character of its own.
However, I was not prepared
for the power or vitality of a dream
surviving over the longest time
ever known.

Rising away there in the fields,
I wonder why love leaves
on the air of pain
with its thumbs held out
to the Light of Never.
Can a poet such as I
lengthen what is kept
inside the day when Love’s Court
is held lingering within forever?

A blizzard of vacancy is coming down,
filling my heart,
a heart once made of stone.
Yes, I can be defeated
by love so sweet.
It has a character of its own.
I bid farewell to this shroud of flight
and to this impossible
breath of song.