To Douglas Trainor
Walking across the dias of the western shore,
lips like puzzles, eyes like doors,
each moment seems tremble before it passes.
To Douglas Trainor
Walking across the dias of the western shore,
lips like puzzles, eyes like doors,
each moment seems tremble before it passes.
Did I
forget to mention while appraising your intentions
that the wind whispers "look past the image and into the
source"?
Then that which is not seen becomes all the more real.
Incanting
open locks whoever knocks is a dangerous profession
and exploring the entrails just leads to more speculation of the
core,
lips like puzzles eyes like doors,
reminding one of the bigger mysteries and of the passage of time.
Leaving
footprints in the sand that will be washed as smooth
as those who have gone before, lips like puzzles eyes like doors.
But buds will blossom, puzzles become solved
and all the doors will open and no longer be like walls.