Suns falling below and storms are
coming - light on half sky,
black clouds on other. Summer rain
meets heat of same - damp.
Cool. The Earth is in balance.
We pay respects by leaving
flowers and candles in endless green
then scurry before it gets to
now - empty and quiet.
Sacred ground.
I am Infidel or child of god
treading here this hour
wondering at his (pantheistic) grace
I believe nothing but still am
humbled in my respect.
No watching eye - no reason
to not feel joy
to not run down sprinkler-soaked path
to not live
amidst remains of poems lost
I wish you here (who are you?)
fingers intertwined
laughing as I laugh
seeing as I see
running here with me
But should you not
(and maybe I'm no solid friend,
perhaps I'm merely just pretend)
Still I ask this: find yourself a place
a book, a tune, a sky, a face
find something that you fully comprehend
or meet me here in evening once again.
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