Who can sing his heart?
Garroted by sins long gone,
I am a may-fly.
Creek flows ever on,
Yellow blossom drifts downstream.
What is permanence?
A snake sheds his skin.
A man sheds his face the same.
No pearl is alike.
A dream is a fish:
Whole life spent in murky depths
In search of context.
The sea seems a mood.
Only asleep do I swim,
When awake, I drown.
My bones are the shore:
Skeleton of vibrant ghosts
Lapping sorrow's tide.
A drum un-beaten
Is a life unlived. In spring
The woodpecker cries.
Consuming the grown,
Spreading hopeful seeds to grow:
A sigh is a bird.
My breath was forecast:
The winds are a waterfall,
All the world is wind.
There was an oboe
Who said "Don't follow the score,
Let me sing your heart."