Where My Soul Song Can Sigh

how long have I been carrying this world?
I cannot know answers that I’ve never heard
but it seems like it began lifetimes ago.

for I have created its art with my struggles,
the woes of those who similar have suffered
friends who enjoy the agony that’s my mother.

yet by this heaviness my arms are now giving,
all the universe is tumbling to its sinking
landing into those who in gravity will stay.

I cannot remember the soul fragments felled
for I never saw the whole I once eagerly held
eyes never seeing truth, by salty tears swelled

but now I’ve lost all my effort and my will
to advertise this my pain, to decorate my kills
so here I alone remain wondering, floating, still

being from where I imagine the monsters receding
light receiving whatever my dark ocean did hide
that I long to be where my soul song can sigh

To Be What is True

they wrote down yoga that you might remember,
not that you might know and teach the masses;

they didn’t care about scholars in white chairs
who in books allow their souls to be devoured

nor did they care about the acrobats of the fair,
who in mirrors allow their souls to become sour

no. wisdom is a memory of what’s brought to light
that the rest of us don’t forget our earthly plight

that you might remember to feel the brilliant sun
that you everywhere hear love of two that’s sung

rainy days give soft rhythm for your soul to drink
to dream what your parents never allowed you to think

I write this down that you might also remember you
to feel what cannot be written, to be what true.

Dreams of a Child

I can barely look upon what I was yesterday or years ago
though I believed by angels the pretty masks were worn
and I’d entertain them with poems to imitate their beauty
yet I was never any of them, not light, not even shadows
just a child’s dream, we adults are but dreams of a child

neither the dusk nor the rosy dawn nor the ghost was I
yet so many lies have filled my heart and feeble mind
I told myself in smiles that betrayed a true lover’s kind,
wiles more cunning than the rising and the falling stars,
identity more consistent than a sun’s eternal repertoire,
making me feel like being alive was half a lonely rhyme

soon will be the day of judgment and my kingdom come
a turning of the tide will arise against my makeshift home
to fall as the walls of towers in the great Flood’s storm
for the wild storm is my heart and soul writhing in pain
trying to pour Love into dreams too imaginary to contain.

What You’ll Be From Within

whispers as subtle winds stir memories to your mind
for even dead leaves dance by the earth’s deep sighs
while what is yet to be enlivened remains in darkness
not despair, my love, not the devil’s quickening fear
but wonder is the spark that will give you light here

and I am doing what I promised you only a year ago
bringing light to those places you’d never dare to go
your seeds of fire like the strange surface of the sun
I planted them here that you might feel as they come
tiny mirrors who might sing your soul’s true intention

for trees can’t provide what their seeds do not design
and your heart won’t find its beating in another’s time
but if you listen to the whispers of your own subtle winds
alone let them sweep the memories of ancient karmic sins
dead leaves to clear the way for what you’ll be from within