As I watch the sunrise
I feel my heart set

The early morning light makes sure I can never forget

The lies
Apologies
Broken promises
Shattered dreams

The love you give to me
Covers what's beneath the seams

I've seen your true colors
I won't fall for it anymore

I've risen past it all
And gone of to my own sunset

Love is not something that can be taught
But is something that is found
It isn’t deceitful like the moonlight
But is as indescribable as the sunrise

In its complexity you find peace
In its anger you find compassion
It teaches with great discipline
It magnificence unlimited

Love is always there to help
Even when you can’t help yourself
For love isn’t who you become
But is your belief in the Holy One

Only one who truly desires
And is humble at heart and soul
Only they will be blessed with the unseen beauty
Of the magnificent King of kings

For love is not something that can be taught
But is something that is found
It is not deceitful like the moonlight
But as indescribable as the sunrise

Captivated by the moon
Ignoring what surrounds her she stood
Under the midnight moonlight
Her silhouette shining across the lake
Longing for the moon
She howled to the night sky
Soon a ray of white light travels
Gold rays melting the lilac sky
Streaks of amber spreading through
As the shimmering sun rose high
There was no darkness
All the stars faded from the sky
And just like stars
She fades away gently and softly
As sunshine takes hold of the air

Fingertips linger upon skin
I trace my answers
As if my hands are mouths
Tongues lapping at the salt
The sunrise rests upon you
Layers of pink, orange and yellow
Glisten upon your face
And my gaze
Falls into your eyes
Your name
The horizon upon my tongue
And our love, I devour
Slowly eating with every touch

for all who understand perfectly why perfection can never be,
                            and Adriana Barreiros~**


                                              <>
Todays new millionth sunrise bids me stand,
observe the river traffic from my kitchen window,
accept that my takings are debts,
a few, even paid back,
yet, most still owed,
for the origins of all my poems,
are oddly and oddity old,
unoriginal, second, third handed
as I look through the eyes of the dead,
and yours too,
this my unoriginal,
original sin....
(pretending  I am a poet)