I first heard the
lullaby in the
womb.
It has a pulse
and rhythm.
It was embedded in
my tissue and cells.
And when I was shot out,
****** and naked,
the cord was cut.
The journey began.

At five years old,
I remember closing
my eyes, and lying
down to go to sleep,
it felt like I was
being rocked.
I wonder if the
subconscious mind was
remembering the
rhythm of the womb.
My Mom--pregnant with me
walking upstairs--downstairs,
elevators
escalators
movement
pulse,
the eternal lullaby of
the womb.
When I closed my
eyes, it felt like I
was being rocked.
It felt like I was
in a swing;
back and forth.
Easy, like a fragrant
spring night.

I feel and hear the
pulse--the rhythm,
the heart in everything.
In footsteps--in the wind,
in the ancient river, and
in the mermaid's song.
I feel it in
the beating of the
hummingbird's wings.
I see it in
Van Gogh's jagged sky,
in the flight pattern
of the wasp.

There is a rhythm in
death and birth.
Oh my God, the rapture of
the rhythm of love and
joy--so sublime.
The primal beat of a
heartbreak--pain,
like painting with
blood.
So real
too lucid.
Icarus, let's fly into
the sun, drunk on
***** or cheap wine.
We'll escape--liquid smooth,
until our wings melt,
and we fall back down,
crash
to the pulse
the rhythm
***  ***
***  ***
***  ***.

Sometimes,
I wish I were
a rock.

There's a ghost in my room
That sings me to sleep
Whispering in my ear
A sweet symphony

With a simple melody
That has a heart mending remedy
But the words that it sings
I can't remember for the life of me

The voice is familiar
But can't put it to a face
I remember something similar
When my mind was in a better state

All I can hope
Is that it never leaves
Because if it were to depart
I don't know how I would sleep

I am staring at the sky
Waiting for the moon to pass by
Gladly, I see Him right now
But suddenly the clouds, trapped him down

I can't even see any presence of my knight,
Waiting for another night to see the moon shines so bright
But even my mind tells me why,
That he'll never come back or sing any Lulaby.