how do you tell stories
(a poignant motion forms a theory about an ideal)
of all the new dreamers
(it pivots itself around its irreplaceable vulnerability)
a movementpaced slowa sifting sort ofclandestinebeckoned bya smilereturnedback to memellowit disappearsbefore I canreach out andgraspthe ends ofthe creases and
I looked into the skiesThey were blackAnd not so whiteI was following the linesThat you had madeWe had a simple little planIt was coldAnd not so litI extended my handSlowly you were wrapped inMaybe somedayI could turn the skiesBlack againThe stars would rain lightDeep inside…
Bound with a rhymebetween our frame
The subtle touchthat wraps aroundfrom endto end
Somewhere lightBounces off the floorBetween the pulsesYour feet sway toWithin the shiftsYour hips groove toWith the tensionOur arms play toAnd I can’t helpBut be mesmerizedBy theTenderDisarmingCadenceOf your dance
What have you taken from my lifeA smile upon which we all danceWhat kind of travels have you foundA beginning at a home not of your own
Had it been easyTo take our grains of sandAnd build our mountainWe would all be sitting cross-leggedEyes glazed to the chilled summit windsOn our pointed peaks staringInto the infinity above
Such a lonely shyA tickled thinkerQuietly sits next toAll the lovely peopleSlowly collected over time
