Tracking through the old growth,

rain at the edge of the world.

Knowing the rapture has

no plan for me .

Just rejoicing in the rain

and the wind .

My heart bleeds creations blood.

Stardust formed my being .



Burning wildflowers

coat my dreams

in a smoking glaze

of eternity’s memories.



I find myself outside

salvations promise.

My breath cuts the depth

of melancholy’s theft .

Unstable in the passing

of grace .



Preferring to take the

apple right off the tree.

Smelling the fresh cut grass.

Plunging my fingers deep into

the rich black dirt of freedom.



Intrigued by utopian desires.

Pushing me to my rubicon

                               my idiom.



Always knowing what’s

my guiding light .

As the moons out of focus

through the trees.