71591

Falling down dreaming of endless poetry and tears for all that was
never there. The breaking of a heard made of glass. The falling of a
tear that fails to pass. Look to the moon rise that will not last.

Cry for the children of ages past. Who never got the chance to be.
Never chasing butterflies or playing hopscotch in view of vases which
hold the liquid of Quiddity.

Drinking in moonbeams and silence of memories of a broken smile. Of
the tears of a child, now grown, who never learned how to laugh and
whose tears never learned how to fall.

Through it all, I am here…

Friendship and laughter with tiny glass splinters. Shards in the way.
Traveling, scavenging, hide and seek. Following, leading the way.
Mr. Birdy with the metal in your beak. So unusual. Travel the dark
with your play lists and safes. Will I ever be? Up again now as the
record plays over the same groove repeating the history of the world.
The ceremony of the innocent skips over the dance a fragile as a
pigeon egg in the dust.

Rooftops and hats. Kiss me again.

71591

Falling down dreaming of endless poetry and tears for all that was
never there. The breaking of a heard made of glass. The falling of a
tear that fails to pass. Look to the moon rise that will not last.

Cry for the children of ages past. Who never got the chance to be.
Never chasing butterflies or playing hopscotch in view of vases which
hold the liquid of Quiddity.

Drinking in moonbeams and silence of memories of a broken smile. Of
the tears of a child, now grown, who never learned how to laugh and
whose tears never learned how to fall.

Through it all, I am here…

Friendship and laughter with tiny glass splinters. Shards in the way.
Traveling, scavenging, hide and seek. Following, leading the way.
Mr. Birdy with the metal in your beak. So unusual. Travel the dark
with your play lists and safes. Will I ever be? Up again now as the
record plays over the same groove repeating the history of the world.
The ceremony of the innocent skips over the dance a fragile as a
pigeon egg in the dust.

Rooftops and hats. Kiss me again.

Its me again…

In the corridor of the dreaming I sit. My back straight against an

invisible abyss. I smell the musky incense that smolders inside. I

hear the mummers of the silenced who have not learned. I see my

priest in from of me. His eyes piercing into my soul. I am instantly

barred. I do not know what I feel. I feel naked, yet I feel I cannot

cover myself. The corners of his mouth turn upwards and he out

stretched his hand to me. I am warm and beautiful and next to him I

walk in pride. We walk together in silence. The murmurs still there,

but bowing to us. This is our place. He lay me down and I lay before

him. Always the eyes. they are half closed as he blesses and conse

crate the host. then he prepares to enter the temple. An ecstasy

builds in the faith. An energy unmatched. I am yours and you are

mine. We are one in each other. The priestess and the priest commit

ting an act of supreme faith, in sacrilege

Summer 91

Its me again…

In the corridor of the dreaming I sit. My back straight against an

invisible abyss. I smell the musky incense that smolders inside. I

hear the mummers of the silenced who have not learned. I see my

priest in from of me. His eyes piercing into my soul. I am instantly

barred. I do not know what I feel. I feel naked, yet I feel I cannot

cover myself. The corners of his mouth turn upwards and he out

stretched his hand to me. I am warm and beautiful and next to him I

walk in pride. We walk together in silence. The murmurs still there,

but bowing to us. This is our place. He lay me down and I lay before

him. Always the eyes. they are half closed as he blesses and conse

crate the host. then he prepares to enter the temple. An ecstasy

builds in the faith. An energy unmatched. I am yours and you are

mine. We are one in each other. The priestess and the priest commit

ting an act of supreme faith, in sacrilege

Summer 91