which dance at dusk. I admire
the pressed lips of sea and land on these soft, swelled sand dunes…
envious of their kiss –
which hers and mine once rivaled.
Our days are one of precious memories…and
bits of drama in the making…
sewn seeds of tenderness. There is a self-disclosure here,
that once we love the human out of each other,
what remains is pure spirit.
We become bone dry and quenched all the same.
Oh lament, the sun settles
from golden gaiety to smoke gray.
And all creatures seen dormant…repose.
Then in a gesture of compassion,
curious with the darkness,
morning slowly peaks over the horizon
with its thin arc of clarity.
So stirs the dawn. The quest
is to blow gently into the ashes,
to see what ember within you still glows…
therein lies your Phoenix.
Your fire bird.
Look into your own ruins
for your true love.