my feet speak their silent prayers,
my silence clothes their waiting.
i feel the passion, the beat of stone,
i am their embrace of both earth and sky.
you are the fire both hot and cool,
that defines the breath of their being.
i am the time only mountains know,
you the tick of the flesh born clock.
as eternity bows with humble need,
to know the intimacy that stands and weeps!
and what you represent…then you probablydont know who you are,and thus dont representanything at all!
and the world dies, and is born anew.storms rage, oceans swell,trees are bent with longing.paths touch, and are deeply burnt,and thousands of years are spoken…without a word, without a thought,infinity revealed in touch!the candle flickers, goes out,and darkness itself becomes light…wolves howl, and the moon whispers!
oflosingmyself,keptmefromtheliberationoffindingmyself……for far too long!
no hands on the book,no jury of twelve.(and the hands of the clockhave stopped!)small children killed, tossed in the trash,women abused, old people hungry, alone.young girls sold into slaveryyoung boys sold into warhomeless ghosts walk the halls,without hope in man or God.and there’s no sound, no feeling,not even a breath of air(and the hands of…
without concepts,by ears stripped of fear.in sacred nakedness,rhyming,the rhythm of breath…footsteps to stillness,and a silence,that has no identity,that is not owned,that cannot be captured,or held…that just ‘is’!
