Steady streams of reflections
kiss my weaknesses
and speak to all my struggles
dancing like leaves in the back of my mind.  
While the scent of happiness
breaks my heart
on unseen mountains
I attempt to climb.

Empty time of the whitest sand
keeps me awake
and runs with arrogance
across the stones of all my questions.
Still….I won’t say
what calls to my world,
or breathe a word, when you delight
in your burning suggestions.

Who paints the world with sunshine
and whispers louder
that which matters,
with whirling streaks of hope?  
When I am spinning round
with speaking eyes
for unexpected hours.  
Feeling alone………..
as an unspeaking ghost.

I wait with a passion
and a fire inside.
Lit by a precious brilliance
with a smile of wonder
on my face.  
Until your light paints my hands
which ache……
my heart beats to claim
your ever saving grace.

Our hearts skip a beat
when fed with the delusion
that we have time in this world
to possess.  
Like a child
we think we own the burning flame
of the candle
standing with no attention
to arrest.  
We are content to be lured in every season
And still yet,
the skies of ourselves
never rests.

We keep our eyes closed,
looking for some other way
to find
everything there is.
Irrespective
of how the sun holds our hands.  
Still,  gently we leave in place
an ache
that prepares us
for the broken windows in our lives
to be like feathers  
with a present
of living free
without demands.

I once thought the sky was empty,
didn't notice my love for life deep inside myself.  
At the mercy of the sleep I found inside footsteps
of someone else.

I did not know if I should grace the ground
with all I believe my thoughts complete.
Or build walls around today
so as not to feel the loss of my defeat.

I saw forever in the past speaking to my soul
with a grip of the darkest hesitance.  
It broke my heart when I was born
like a man avoids his dying dance.

I once thought of your fingerprints as the deeper story
I carried with me at night.  
But I was simply masking all my feelings,
unknown, out of sight.

So, don’t try to read my mind
from your chariot full of problems, or be my puppet master.  
I can see you drowning in a storm of yesterday,
sinking ever faster.