“Stream me, Poet”, says the words on the tip
in tongues forming, at the back of my mind
As yet inarticulate. In theory they reside,
Recalled when triggered or grasped by brightness
Conceived. They are in me seeking a voice.
Of obsidian he stands
In strengths embrace he holds
There I find I am complete.
Not in duality but in self,
Whole in spirit, whole in me.
Push pull I groove
Only knowing in the now
Soft smiles reach
Eyes of green
And cheeks blushed peach
Enjoying the reason for it.
Time is of the wanting
Time may come…
Settle your debts, your life,
But not your love…
Baby dear, be at peace
And know he’s near.
