Flowers in the Sky

The sky is blooming,
With thoughts of you,
Spread out across the
Treetops, catching every
Traveling eye passing by.
Behind the farmhouse, and
Up against the half-faded
Moon, your picture dances.
(Oh how my side hurts
From laughing with
Your smile at my side).
All I’ve known of you is
Somewhere forthcoming;
Somewhere running from
My brain to flow forth
From these flamboyant fingers:

You are a stream of
Compassion searching
For a place to flow.
You are the song of
A sparrow searching
For a place to sing.
You are the heart of
A child searching
For a field to frolic
Through, on Sunday
Afternoon – that you
Might pick a dozen
Bright yellow flowers,
As you go, and weave
Them through your hair.
You are the thought of
Our Savior finding its
Way to the heart of
This very moment.

Oh how my side hurts
From having laughed
With your smile at
My side, my friend.

The Means to Reach our Destination

‘Forever’, you could say it;
You could mail the word first-class;
You could lick and stick the noble bell
And slip it in empty mail, but
You could never use it twice.

It would sooner die alone:
A rippling rectangular carcass 
              Frozen
On a white rectangular plain,
Drinking its last drops from
The frosty streams of departure,
As others are quickly remembered.

But I,
I am not ‘Forever’ for
‘Forever’ will cease to be
And we are not ‘Forever’
You and me
We are just a moment
Filled with love and cheer
So let us address it now while
We are here.

Goosefoot and Lambs

This path is lined with memories
I’ve forgotten, or have never known.
Purple stems are sprouting
– At my left and at my right –
To the beat of children running,
Hiding, from a million covalent drops.

Oh, and here come a million again!
Falling down at my feet in a puddle
– So close, but never touching –
After a taking a million sacrificial
Suicidal leaps toward the murky
Depths below. (But they can neither
Die nor drown in my memory).

‘Forever’

‘Forever’, you could say it;
You could mail the word first-class;
You could lick and stick the noble bell
And slip it in empty mail box, but
You could never use it twice.
For, ‘Forever’, will lose
Its value when used.

It will die in a corner
Of white empty space
Covered with streams of departure.
The end of ‘Forever’
No man will remember
Though it died for them as a martyr.

Am I ‘Forever’;
Used once, never twice;
Stuck ‘Forever’, with a
Rippling rectangular shape,
To a straight rectangular plain
With those used over and over,
again and again and again?

Please don’t say ‘Forever’
But please do address me –
Below the streams of sacrifice,
On the newly covered plain.
For there is so much more I
Have to say over and over,
again and again and again.

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* The prior is simply a rough edit, now completed in ‘The Means to Reach our Destination’