Waiting for Downtime

If only we had the time to really get to know each other, unworried, unafraid, the holiness of life on our lips, the sunrise occuring within/ without concurrently . . .


THE REST OF IT GOES HERE
The posture required to live in this world
Seems like mad shuffling in circles to me.
Though when tapped with solitude’s wand
I can hear the heart’s traffic jam singing
Through a thousand lovely suffering horns.
And I remember these years have been dear,
That the best works are worth the weariness,
That loss is needed rain for crops of joy,
That joy is coming though the storm is long.
Neither sun nor rose is denied her age.
To us it’s a dream of a thousand years.
Our tears transformed to manna and laughter,
Food of ourselves we feed to each other.
This life’s not desert, it’s a lake beside
A grove, a blanket, two glasses of wine;
It’s songbirds, it’s sunshine, it’s us with time