some songs are sung

when love scurries
towards the edge
a fist fails to catch the wind
the cliff-bound, faraway cries
drowns in itself as it
at the laughing sky–I look up

to meet the night’s eyes
tears soft as a lonely feather
fall like kisses on my cheek
the blur of starlight,
though fractured
by life’s lecture
once again
chooses to be brighter–and know that

though my throat dries, parched
from the pale laborious singing
that uses me up sometimes
it anchors me down
like gravity anchors me
anchors me down
sustains a breath, so true
a thriving beat grouped in twos
in, out; in, out
and in
a song in reverse,
heard or unheard
it sings its way back
back to my starlit soul


One comment

  1. Michael (contemplativemoorings) · October 7, 2015

    This is tremendously affecting…Excellence…

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