As heavens open their flood gates;
Gushing forth in a thunderous frenzy
Do they still hug this very ground?
Kissing it fluid, languid and volatile?
And when the afternoon's sun lost
its track, did he splash
lengthy shadows-half-yellow,half-crimson
Into unseen nooks and corners
of your mind and mine?
Watching this play of
heaven and earth;
Every pore of my being
alive and alert
to mirth and madness,
I look around for you in
our half- lit room
What power do words have?
That you pour your soul
bent
Over those books?
What price would I not pay
to partake of that stolen time?
Moment by moment, when the flood
trickled down,
Grey clouds of desire
lightened into
Cotton whiffs of memories,
Would you ever wonder had you kept the book down,
Those words would not be
sad and lonesome?
Or did you worry they would
skip and run?
And like these shadows, turn and never return?
I see sometimes that this
time and space have curved around
a place of yester-tomorrow
But does a day truly turn
onto itself?
Devouring it's tail,
that curved eternity of the
null?
Or does time go on and with
it, desire?
Beyond null, beyond one?
