the ticking of the clock
the passing of hours
the rolling of days and the turn of the moon
our collective purse of felted love hanging
merely wasted
or silk'd in some celestial cocoon
to understand the calling
to recognize the path
the structure of a life tethered to sky
to grab the trapeze with no fear of falling
as we look to the sun
to figure out why …
should we have borrowed the velvet of another
should we stoke the fire ignoring the night
should we have chosen the earth here below us
to steady our steps instead of to flight
the heart-seated sureness
the gamma-ray knowing
the manifestation of all that is true
corals the silk-tale of butterflied purpose
and
sings to the bones of love aqua-blue
