I Keep Busy…
I keep busy with paraphernalia.
I write often in my secret language of desire.
I tell You about Yourself — how You are doing
on my jagged landscape.
Yesterday I replanted my heart again.
It has grown so wild that nothing can contain it for too long.
I have found new seeds.
I do not know what they will become.
Maybe they will flower.
Maybe You can use them.
Meanwhile, there is a life to be lived!
I hope You like what I am doing — it is very confusing being me.
One day You may tell me why You push up through me like the sunrise.
Why the sky needs my light.
Until then I will be passable,
a way to travel on an alternative route,
And in the haphazardness of time,
I may become Your heaven
or better yet