The Wind Has Seen Me Breaking
Ashes of happiness, Drowse of hazel clouds,
stir themselves into my solitude lamp.
There are no lives beyond this planet.
True words are but beads of tears as
innocence, like rainy rose, in poignancy
its beauty is shaped and brightened.
There, where paths consistently cut into
remembrance, this love shall be spelled
out aloud, in the silky evening of June.
“Letting go is but an ancient way of having.”
The lighter shade of the blue sky equals
my freedom, though I may have lived
my dreams in vain as the noble air turned
into autumn. The wind has seen me breaking
as I bent over, drifting along the golden ray.
2005-6-18
