Wednesday, January 10, 2018

Endure



This evening haze,
swarms through the membrane
of an unsettled moment
that leaks like a childhood wound.
Barren like a motherless sky,
I ache for your subtle birth
dear thought.

Apple of the Self’s Eye



Around the nucleus
of this truth called love
revolves a hymn
like an old friend
that never ceased
to sound like an answer.