past lives by eebrinker

does the desert sing;

what are its notes?

to fly and fly again is only tender options, tendered.

when the sky is blue,

the land is red

and dreams have no color for the twining–

black and white.

let every angst and sorrow be, for what

oh what?  can be done.

the anger doesn’t flow and

over reaches not the down below … so sue the grave!

remember how they sighed

and spoke of times

the past blithely be-twined.

given:  all a part of here,

a part of self yet self-removed.

and passion?  I forgot its sting,

for now in whispers only will

the distance find my stare.

are you there?  oh yes, she is …

holding hands like stepping stones

to heaven.

generations float between my gaze and every song,

every note in desert, born

not silence,

(oh i wish I was the best!) silence holds no image,

questioning.

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