I think about lyrics, as I hear them play Why are songs made and what do they say If songs were birds they would never fly songs are on earth and they dream about the sky Songs are shelter When harsh winds blow Melting storms into words that flow I drape myself with the soft sound, to tickle me to shiver And every morning, I look outside I believe the rippling water that shimmers… against fiery mountains, floating in the sky… Although, I know it’s a lie… and the song is the liar.
I sit in my room As the dark night glooms I think about how everything has changed, but the song remains
Abdicating the shadows; totemic. I return back to dig up the buried- moon from the ruins of poetry. It benumbs. No response was coming from cajoling the black secrets- of time-cast. A storm was raging in a pack of emptiness.
The graceful dance of butterfly wings, The budding romance attending Spring — The morning melody of birds who sing, The opportunities each new day brings — The serene swaying of porch swings, The relaxing splashing of gentle rain — Wedding
This night, the moon shining at the window There are some noises tonight Tonight there are some noises to build love There are some noises tonight Not all angels look alike, not all, my love! With some there’s nothing left