We try to rhyme rhythms
That open blind eyes,
But we stumble.
Because the rhythms come in a form we’re still learning how to play.
As the quiet stirs, chords weave and spin whispers of this new dance we can’t explain.
I hear it’s the sound of sweet sweet.
I like to call…
The love-sick song…and path to freedom.
I fine tune my strings.
Just as the water touches my nose,
I purify all thoughts to “wash myself of myself.”
I cleanse my all to become one with this sweetness.
This divine grace,
That is my all,
Is now free,
To become one,
Everything that is beautiful and lovely,
And Everything I consider to be Sacred…
Blessings are raptured between songs finding peace.
While the dancing stops me in my tracks,
The divine beauty of my heart speaks to my beloved.
If love is the soul’s joy and prized possession,
Let this heart break from its own fear,
Living lost days,
We sat in a crime,
Our eyes fixed by love.
Humbled by its quiet nature,
We danced forever
In that look.
When our hearts melted
Between the lyrical flow of our hands
And the thick weight of our breath,
Something gave way.
But it wasn’t as it seemed,
For it was a different love
A bird with wings walking straight, swallows.
With no doubt dripping fantasies,
To be authentic.
This seduction to reveal the dance, unveils itself.
I see now,
How my figure unwinds,
And the blessing of my love divine,
The source of all love my dear one,
Steals a gaze,
And I exchange words.
When I overcome my thoughts
Blanketed by these affections,
I step back to the beat.
I adore this hope
In my prayers,
For a silent dedication,
A love song.
O’ this tender tale awakes a candid beauty,
Chambered within fine lines.
Dare it reveal my kind lady,
I have become of a faith that captures my soul.
To sit here
To play a new song.
Bending here to let my hands go loose,
I crave with my all-ness,
To be true.
With thirsty eyes,
The heat straightens and sculpts my words.
I should not touch it as this heat will seduce me
To my ends.
Just like the delicate nature of my lips touched twice.
I, at last,
Embrace this tenderest of loves.
No, my love did not become a wound.
I, in my meekness sit reading white lines,
Trying to figure it all out.
My mind spins,
And the cracks in the silence,
Cripple me to my knees.
A love like this,
Is a classic tale, woven tight in scriptures and engraved
All that is holy,