Adam put my hand in his hair and asked me if he looked nice tonight.

You look like you’ve been traveling on the wind a long time;
Your eyes, a whirlpool of brown and green,
Lent to you by the earth.
Dark when the sky turns, clears when the water escapes through the river.
And as the tidal waves calm; storm passes, your eyes lighten.
I feel your heartbeat slow
And your eyelids no longer feel the need to keep watch;
red roots no longer take your peace for nutrients.

You look like you’ve been taking pebbles and cactus flowers along the way to rest.
You’ve been guided by the other particles on their way to becoming,
To travel faster in your chosen direction.
And to catch a ride on the wind when it’s lazy; tamed by the hot sun.

You look like you were first formed someplace in outer space
You look like the great beyond, all that’s happened along with being narrowly avoided,
and a vintage kitchen toaster
all collided with the force of fate.
And their death - the dust -
Was solidified by the hot American sun, and made your body.
And when you stood, everything else realized it also could.
You brought the sky down to kiss the solid ground.
You said it was easy, anyone could do it.

I reach my cupped hand in the water searching for salt.
Just a speck will do.
Placid- you stand in my hand, you look up with wind behind you now.
You’ve been searching along time for a place to be that’s only yours.
You tilt your neck back and sigh.
And river beds form for you in the crevices of my hand.
You trace the ivy up my arm,
Up to my shoulder
We can watch people, places and things rise and fall,
In sync with the movement of your chest.
I straighten my hand
Come stand beside me now.

So yes, you look nice tonight,
When I see you
All I can see is the heart-stopping feeling of staring into the eyes of everything that was, is, and could be.
Your love is not the only thing you’ve done, not even the greatest-
But it’s the best thing that
i
have ever seen.

The world is burning,
Matter dissolves —
Forms collapse —
the temples, the empires,
the names etched on marble.
Even the body,
faithful companion,
bends to the law of fading.
But what is form
but the shadow of becoming?
And yet,
essence remains —
not the monuments,
not the crowns,
but the invisible pulse
that binds us.
It survives the fire,
travels through the ashes,
and whispers:
“You are more than what perishes.
You are the song,
not the instrument.”

The cities fall into sparks,
the towers bow into ash,
and still the stars
scatter their infinite silence.
What is consumed here
is reborn elsewhere,
for the cosmos has no waste,
only transformation.

We are flames too,
brief torches of awareness
wandering through the night of time.
Our suffering is not the end,
but the beginning of vision.
Through the smoke of endings
we glimpse the open horizon—
where fire becomes light,
and light becomes love.

The world in flames
is not the world perishing,
but the world remembering
its eternal source.

the traveler makes song
heard in many places, rising,
ending like tree top disappearing
into low living cloud.

he knows our uncertainty,
clothed in the
vain gold authority
of hard men,
bent as the tree
and harder yet to please.

i have dined with the traveler
many times.  
at opulent table sitting
foreign and small.
in the bowels
of the wood where his
song rang the sweetest.
in the tempest of a kitchen
table, a sudden swift storm.

i struggle with the lyric
of his song, so vast, so simple.
in language sharp and clean,
that speaks to us this one true
thing:

love only; the you as the i
and that which is above all else.

The path seeking I went is not
what I want you to seek.
You not be me;

The walk of the walk truly
belongs to the person whose walk
is what the heart craves for.
You not be me;

For the senses and the experiences
I taught you is just a mere mirror of
mine bestowed upon you as a jewel for
myself to find what is mine and not yours.
You not be me;

Find your path, walk the walk with
love in your heart, that holy light will lit
your journey of life for which is what we are here for.
You better not be me;

who marked the birch
different in the skin,
and placed it at the spot
and the time to be caught
in the slanted rays of the sun,
at the tired end of day?

who brought me here
like i've been brought before,
unprepared for the gifts presented?

what is in common,
the aging of my open hands
and the leaf less birch
stark white in contrast
to the woods surrounding?

that i, in skin
stretched over bone frame,
am still and bent
and white and waiting,
grasping at the sky as the tree,
that rises beyond me,
showing me the faith of the hand
feeling the wood,
rooted and reaching,
touching the vitals of the earth rising,
ever rising to the underside of god.

Our dance is trance,
Paint my eyes red,
Lips slightly parted,
wet iron and ash,
I breathe you out,
You hold me in,
One move, one cut,
thousand more,
they fold, mother soaks,
stars behind open eyes,
every drop marks our path.
Hands melt in hours,
body warm, stone of yours
Twin snakes of bones,
dance of souls.
Not mine or yours.

Chameleon daggers,
battle stars,
morning awaits,
dusk to dust cover us.
Witness of the Moon,
child of Bloom,
Legit forged in battle,
Take by two, left as one
Sacred kingdom of sun,
Grey of food, black fruit:
sweetness of soul,
Drip on my chin,
flow free in chant.
Now altar of yours.
I eat your rage, take your blade,
Feed my hunger, tear apart,
clothes torn, ripped wings,
morning sparks.

That's when you rule,
I give my body, will is yours,
till the next night...
When blade of hunger comes.
Gold and red, skins are shred.
Breath the earth as I demand.
Crescent moons, between knees,
ringed sun, crowned path.
I touch ruby and emerald,
Became a prism, to peel the sun.
My voice is river,
your body is the current.
Mountains of will around,
shoulder blades to hold,
tells a story of the old.

Now we curve into one again,
Fed for good, left to loose,
Eyes became mouth, spreads us.
Freedom of day and night,
Felt more sacred,
than one of the eye.
Other is turned to whisper
of trust. Pantheon without us.
How could they bear that was told
Laws became our holds.
Until we meet again:
in echoes, breathes.
Not day and night,
but warmth and light.