What might we share?
Except for some source of light
And the cello muse
I won’t pretend to know
I like soft things
You like the edge
I’m drawn to abbeys
You’re from the deep
I flirt with irreverence
You respect me
So maybe we could stand
A day or year
A treaty, here
Praise The Rock from which The Water flows
Not far from Jordan
Giv’n The Universe
There seems more to us than this
Maybe this is that
Step one, get weird with it. This belongs to you all, after all.
Step two, present yourselves ￼all ways, every day, at the same time.
Step five, step five?! Yes, step five — there’s nothing linear or logical of this.
Step five, show the canvas of man what these years of kinship mean.
Step six, dip your brush in cool, cool water, then choose the color violet. Or orchid, because you are bold, or you want to be.
Step three, make a space in advance, or in the moment, or not at all. The whole Earth was prepared for you.
Step four, never end before you’ve finished, or for forever, whichever comes first. Last.
Step seven, relay your love for The All of them. Take responsibility and fight again tomorrow with the sunrise.
Not Hell-bent for the stars
I must go
I must be
I must give what is ours
If you look
If you ask
If you promise what’s true
You will find
You will learn
You will become who’s you
I’ll be as water for you
You’ll be my sugar
Was the water as fine a host as your story told? The global position as true? It has been some time, and I’ve navigated North somewhat, bring me back.
What shifting of the ground beneath your feet? What compromise refused? Oft’ the sands of time serve us, some act as cogs, and some as polish.
Seek with me a patient balance. Find the urgent, too. May it be our paths have merged, when this day ends, when ‘morrow comes.
Why did you act like water and feel like hands
And I, born thirsty with never a progenitor to touch me
Why did I, the reluctant saint, concede nonetheless to True North’s tug
And you, the only lesser god ever worth worshipping