Lightning strikes and shifts high above our never.
Time flows like a river standing out in delight.  
There is more power within ideas
pressing against the throat of morning;
filling your life’s cup with wonder,
than when dusk stands alone
dressed only
in feathered flight.

You cannot pry open the fingers of flight
make them advance any higher
even if you want to know
about time that’s passed.
Twisting and turning you will begin falling,
until what you want to be
sweeps across this land.  
Take my hand
perhaps we will learn
the truth at last.

Last night you looked better
than the first time I met you.
All the while familiar feelings
sank into our sleep.
Madness streams into a waterfall of self,
full of imperfection.
Where comfort causes passion
to stretch tenderly
into each word you kiss,
when our talk
runs ever deep.

All the tears that fall between rocks
surrounding your loneliness
want you to try hard
feel nothing at all.
They glisten as they attempt to become
lost inside your stubborn heart.
Forever tells me these tears
will continue as trails on faces,
and be heard as thunder
when they fall.