I've drank the finest of wine
Down to the bottom of the bottle
Only to witness an ocean alone
Barely surviving my own hands

A fire burned through my viens
That was blew out by the wind
Breezing through the leaves
A calmness that sits with me
Before calmness dismisses me

I walked across the tallest blue sky
Where wide winged birds soar high
Til promises of white clouds turn grey
And so there I fell with the rain
Dripping through the lowest gutter

Many times I was buried, lying in dirt
Like a grave, needing no help
Finding the dark inside of myself
But I always rise with the blades
Of the greenest fresh spring grass

No matter what feeling I catch
None of them seem to everlast

Are we nothing more than evolution?
Far less than God intended.
Less than a drop in the ocean
A footprint in the sand
A blade of grass
A petal
A leaf even in a forest.
Are we nothing more
Than miraculous creation?

In the empty nothing
   I have found everything

That
honey, that
starstuff, that
liquefied sunshine
has it's Source in her very core.

Molten gold.

It seeps from her fingertips slowly, near
imperceptibly,
one full drop every quarter hour.

It splatters sometimes when she
claps her hands or
taps her fingers, and if she stays still too long it
pools on the cold ground below.

It leaves a sticky-honey-orange-sunshine mess
and doesn't apologize for it.