And the Day

You are the morning sun…,

the elegance of a wet floor,

while mirroring the nature outside -

its blossoming trees…,

clouds like soft stairs of a 

foreign God…,

You are the coffee breath,

beneath the Hollow Moon,

steamy hand waving across the Sea…,

across the Land,

its fingers crossed for a 

more grounded touch…,

while we search for the hidden meaning,

in our trousers and bra,

You are seldom this quiet,

lip shivering - the upper one,

as saying: with this ‘becoming one’

the onus is on you…,

to Be more,

You are the Souls steer command,

the sandy dune in a 

vast desert of Loneliness…,

as I walk through the walley of 

Shadow and Death,

You quote…,

then proceed to be invisible,

as a ghost of a thousand yards,

sickly white…,

buried beneath the Willow tree,

Sicamore as a brother,

You are the words of a wise man,

losing all his marbles…,

in a card game with Fear,

a Lions roar, a frogs feet,

mischief above judgement…,

and the Day…,

soon my friend,

it will come and call you,

through the veil…,

of Known and Unknown,

there…, 

where we lie,

as the sun goes down,

beyond the horizon,

clouds like soft stairs of a

foreign God.