Flowers and fire lost in the thoughts of rainclouds
While of light we are blind to life
The world is standing on dying shores
Hands seek the way among mazes of darkness
in the aftermath of anthems laughter knows no language
Wishes of wisdom
the neurons of jasmine warm, sense
in the skin’s air no hand remains
The weakness to raise weapons of war for life is joy
The lines on the face of nations is not young or old,
Every Border holds the age of the moment
We cannot pick cherries from public trees
Yet we are a million blue lights on a hill
We see the Shores lost in unending reflections
in facing soldier mirrors we blind ourselves
Heroes who taste the bitter that is lost by infinite images
Life is worthwhile in walls
Where fledgling doves alight on the wings of winds
Anthems sung in shadows hone hatred
While wind blows among the snow shrouded Buddha’s burden
Tear down this wall
And build a new wall
It is the wind that breathes when bombs fall
When Rain thinks for the living
The synapse that fuels the flesh
Skin exposes the soul
Victory is whale songs sweet
On the hill summer’s early shade
Monuments contest the past
While debate lies in history
And mystery past and future
Eyes alight on the moment
What is written in ink
Draws the shape of being
There is no need for a needle
The written voice leaves us numb
On high alert among a million lights
Music flies in the face of ways to love
Its power sways with every note
Lyrics leave us open wounds
Melodies feed the nightshade of time
Nuance amplifies the oblivion
What comes can only be the sun
Paved in stones of monuments
History is etched in bones and fascia
Blood runs among all seas
Ends in soil that begins anew
Words left speechless
On breezes wiping out sound and song
Refrained in hearts and verse of who and how we love
Left alone to grow or die
Deter the final note to hope
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