I am a rib
pulled out from your cage.
I am the apple
pressed against your lips.
I am the warmth
within your breath.
The sweet nectar
on your fingertips.
Your heart was made
but your soul was mystic.
The otherworldly flow
of spirit
within boundless space.
A warrior of flesh and blood
inside a
mirror-image
of my face.
"bone of my bones
and flesh of my flesh;"
What is this you have done?
You,
my demise but still
I become the mother
of all the living.
For the dust I am,
I will return.

Loving you is like wanting to know the softness of an exceptionally beautiful cloud. One can only know its touch in the form of rain.

knowing
that I don't know anything
about you is
nice
it's new
exciting
I want it to stay that way.

I want you to always be
that surprise around
the corner
I somehow
never make it to
because you're
almost too beautiful
for me to see

So much emphasis is placed
On finding the face in the crowd
That makes a permanent home in your brain
On the way a small forest fire can sprout from the fingertip touch
Of the one
Who may or may not stay
Just like the feelings that seem too good to be true.
But what about waking up early just to be filled with the solace of a gentle sunrise
Or dancing to the radio while cooking tomato soup in your sunlit kitchen
Or rolling down your car windows despite the falling rain
Or pulling on your favorite socks after eating peanut butter toast
I want you to wake up in the morning and smile because you have a whole life to live          
I want you to learn to appreciate the way the light streams over the moutains at 7:36 in the morning
through the air laying heavy with people's thoughts        
and through your window screen
Where the light lands in speckles on your bed and seeps into your heart.
I want you to cook your favorite breakfast and ride your bike the long way to work.
The beautiful things in life
Are the ones that are rarely noticed by others.
Love seeps from the earth and from your skin. Don't wait for someone to hand it to you.
Feed it to yourself.

When no one was looking
I touched a Picasso.

I  let my hand run
like water
over the hills
and the caves
the smooth
metallic
surfaces
that
spoke to me
from
across the room

And I imagined at
night
when this sculpture sits
alone.
With no orange light
of a candle
or hum of a tv
a blue screen flickering,

laughter or cigarette smoke

It's locked up and I am free.

there is a laybye , the field so pretty
to park by, the gate to lean.

will you report the fire?
no i stopped to admire.

i had seen the stack before, the logs
laid neatly, all was ready then,

now your flames attract me, to
talk of lambs and springtimes.

it is from the storm , tinder dry,
too hot to stand by,
i can feel it from here.

on my return all was ash and steaming,

we waved.



sbm.

A heavily breathing forest hums with the air
trees whispering softly as the buzzing bees dance
Birds in a choir; searching the rays.
The sun don’t shine much down here.
As the creeping willow offers me a perch, I realise this moment is beautiful.
I’m so close to the earth; it’s with me as I breath’
It grows deeper in beauty, i know everything around me lives.
The baby birds are frolicking in bushes
While the ground beats it’s heart like a drum.
It breathes while we breath and she’s still young
She is glorified with radiance and she lives with humanity.
The earth was created for me, not just me but us.
We’re all in sync, like clockwork.
We all tick like the same clock connects us together.
Just think about how we remain alive, this world is more alive then we shall ever be.

A Rock there is whose homely front
    The passing traveller slights;
Yet there the glow-worms hang their lamps,
    Like stars, at various heights;
And one coy Primrose to that Rock
    The vernal breeze invites.

What hideous warfare hath been waged,
    What kingdoms overthrown,
Since first I spied that Primrose-tuft
    And marked it for my own;
A lasting link in Nature’s chain
    From highest heaven let down!

The flowers, still faithful to the stems,
    Their fellowship renew;
The stems are faithful to the root,
    That worketh out of view;
And to the rock the root adheres
    In every fibre true.

Close clings to earth the living rock,
    Though threatening still to fall:
The earth is constant to her sphere;
    And God upholds them all:
So blooms this lonely Plant, nor dreads
    Her annual funeral.

                * * * * * *

Here closed the meditative strain;
    But air breathed soft that day,
The hoary mountain-heights were cheered,
    The sunny vale looked gay;
And to the Primrose of the Rock
    I gave this after-lay.

I sang-Let myriads of bright flowers,
    Like Thee, in field and grove
Revive unenvied;—mightier far,
    Than tremblings that reprove
Our vernal tendencies to hope,
    Is God’s redeeming love;

That love which changed-for wan disease,
    For sorrow that had bent
O’er hopeless dust, for withered age—
    Their moral element,
And turned the thistles of a curse
    To types beneficent.

Sin-blighted though we are, we too,
    The reasoning Sons of Men,
From one oblivious winter called
    Shall rise, and breathe again;
And in eternal summer lose
    Our threescore years and ten.

To humbleness of heart descends
    This prescience from on high,
The faith that elevates the just,
    Before and when they die;
And makes each soul a separate heaven
    A court for Deity.