The ides of March is now upon us
Winter’s white blanket slowly disappears
Revealing huge giants of nakedness asleep
The gray clouds of war have shifted created space
Pressed backwards our wills are scattered
While the harsh cold winter winds dance with clouds
Freely they move about in the wide blue depth in the beyond
My weary eyes grow accustom to the flaming cosmos
Light o day the soul in me springs into song
I sing of spring, new life to bring exuberation to sadness
But only in small increments like the hour hand
The clock moves unseen yet with a rhythm all its own
Strings pluck at my heart the music moves and pulls at me
Like a gazelle I grow wings and leaping I fly
To a place where dreams create life
Where scared words, streams of energy provide
And the chorus of humans dance on a wheel of fire
In the shadows of death within the tent of that single light
Where consummation of minds are hallowed
Where they stand the buzz of honey silk sounds enraptures
Where the eloquence of mouths mute the dark spaces with silvery light
Where metaphors echo with the sounds of bells peeling
Where the dream is real, the rib of life, the eternity
And a thought, I wish to share this all with fruits of my loins
I would like the full cast in the role of all humanity
To be a witness to this all of it
But the twelve wise virgins. I do not know, their presence made known
Saying something softly said to me. Direct your attention to the sun.
Break the dawn of truth quietly, softly, unannounced you must arrive.
Truth comes separately to each of us in a lonely crowd.
Its power diminishes when death and deaf still struggle for control
Believing the darkness only. -
Sunday shall sustain and guide me through shallow straits
And rocky ridges and perhaps the darkest days yet to come
This my hope, this my song I shall sing for all to hear me.