Disheveled as the fingers of morning  
this sage in her sedentary stoic seat
needs no purge to enter gloaming

Ripped at the seams by eventide
with hair of finest wheat
she lingers fearless as the tide  

Dormant dreams at sundown's door
chalk faced white as sheet
she drowns, in the ocean bellied floor

taken by the shackles of her wrists
on leaden feet
she walks towards the ether, in Gist

Quote: If I tell you that I have a gem folded in the palm of my hand, the question
of belief arises, but if I unclench my fist and show you the gem, it will not...
Buddha

A Fistful Of Diamonds Or Colored Sand

A fistful of diamonds or a  handful of colored sand
God blew a breath and scattered me all over town
I don't own airborne wings I don't live in fairyland
but when I see I only see reflections of His gown

A clear cut glass edged and polished with shine
another object of valor dulls before His stars
Sotto voce, an invisible sign of His Divine
I can either accept the vision, or decline

The mayhem of  the worlds chaos just a blow
I'm soak in the reflection of His quiet calm
Spikenard anoint and flowers bloom and glow
He is my diamond in the raw my soothing balm;

A fistful of diamonds or a handful of colored sand
He's the love I crave for, in the palm of my hand.

June 29, 2021

At the font of her own misery she wept silently
beneath a parapet sky of midnight blue  
Silver stars enmeshed and softened the water
as she drew closer to the only venue of comfort
she knew, ...
Amongst the conference of moon's effulgence
lay a quiet angel listening
to the in and outs, of a sweet girl's breath
A pear shaped tear fell on her pillowed cheek
not a spark from the heavens could rouse her
not a single whisper from Jala could end
the sorrow that threatened to engulf her being ;
At the brink of disaster a healing hand reached out
softer then the caress of the breeze
gentler then the brush of wings
As she stood beneath the silver stars eyes glistening,  
she found the edge line of the water then giving it
once last glance, she turned around then jumped..

Luscinian voices in the thicket of a midnight waltz
single male birds singing from a point of solitude  
closing down on city sounds inside a forest vault  
the sound of their vocals, nightingale's prelude      

calling in mates with whistles, trills  and sounds
sending messages of longing from across the throng  
listening from cup-shaped nests, eager to be found  
they wind up feeling drawn by their melodious song  

she, awake as the dawn and free as a bird in the sky  
he, as cuffed to her beauty as  the wings on her back  
they mate on a branch as soft as a nightingale's sigh  
away from the songsters, who are trying but lack

luscinian voices singing softly of dawn's pure glory
while two nightingales share a life, and love story.    

June 11, 2021

Jesus be my light my One and only
my candle in the dark my saving lark
help me to avoid all things not Holy  

in this life be my lantern for night's dark  
so when my Grace arrives on eagle wings
I may behold the murmur of your calling hark    

you are my Faith diamonded ring      
all that I hold most dear like trust and love  
you are the Master of my puppet strings  

in you I find refuge and hope from above
you, joy of my success are my one true Love.

I was six years old, the year was 1966.  Mom left me alone in a plaza
with my one year old sister in a perambulator.  
She went inside to do the grocery and asked me to take care
of her while she picked a few items;  
Along came two teenagers.  Inching closer to the carriage they peeked inside,  
"OOOOH  she's cute, is this your baby sister ?"
The next comment froze me where I stood,    
"We are going to take her, " one of them said,    
while the other grabbed the handles of the carriage
They shoved me aside and took off.  
I was in shock but I managed to run inside.  Sobbing  I told my mom
they had stolen my baby sister ;
Mom ran out of the store and chased after them.  
They ran fast but mom ran faster with me lagging behind.  
Suddenly they got scared when they heard her yell and pushed the carriage in the middle of the road.  Mom grabbed it before a car came by,
but slashed her leg on the steel frame while saving my sister from a car.
All my life I have had an intense fear of losing someone dear
Mom and dad both are both gone now, but the memory of that day
will live inside of me forever.

A true story that happened to me.

Night roses dipped in purkinje, tendencies of blue
lost inside this dream I urge the winds to carry me
onto the hammocks of the night where antic roses lie,  
moonlit soaked and mulched aside a big blue moon ;
Festoons of flowers strung across the midnight sky
scented boutonnieres for Saints and Gods  
Angel wraps and gauzy shawls caressing softly stars
lost in a shimmer high above the sea , I am nigh
In exploration I am closing in, onto sweet allay
loosening the strings of yearn for my turtle dove  
here in home sweet heaven, timeless as a rune  
soaked in purkinje, eternally making room.