The past is a guide;
A companion who leads you
Into the future
Drops of falling rain,
Waiting, outstretched tongue.
Desperately seeking my
Crimson clouds hang low.
The day’s embers glow softly,
burning down to dusk.
I go to freeze on dark tides
I wake before three.
for another’s riches
The night air’s cold hand
reaches down and pulls my breath
in shards from my chest.
Waves, softly lapping
Dappled light wanders.
Across the lush, verdant grass
A humid spring day Sudden rain soaks the asphalt And leaves it steaming
Crowns of barren trees Dipped in the gold of sunrise Turn to burnished bronze
Crystals born of dust Falling from the firmament Alight on my tongue
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