I
think of valleys, to trek through caves, to exit where art
infuses
daughters and archery imbues sons. It’s interchangeable.
I
glance at a sacred rock, to read of Aztec soldiers and Native
legends.
It’s more than a tear to fall upon earth to water a
floret
cactus. This was home, to tread alone and venture upon
footprints.
We say, “That’s Life-force, that’s Primal-Energy.”
I
wrestle with irritation, to seek upon Invisibility, to hear for
Force.
There’s a tree beaming with life to offer fruit in a
waterless
land. I partake of its beauty to anchor a kiss torn by
your
agony. I sit to read silence a fire in your soul to awaken a
season
of harmony. I disappeared long to return welded to a
mental
utopia; but what for colors aflight a mind squeezing
exotic
fruit. I’m thirsty for symbols and signs that part for
shattered
seas; and there you muse, flipping through Buddhist
literature.
I soon appear, even unto myself, where I drifted into
your
desert. We spent from life to tree and sea to harvest. We
watched
an industry erupt, where sacred moments get buried in
debris;
but love for more sailing through islands, forevermore.
