Views of the Lost

There it is
on the edge of the moment
sharp and in focus
though distantly approaching
it calls to you
it sweetly sings to you

you want to reach out
curl your tender fingers around
the breath of a promise
this falling provides
in the midst of a mountain
and the sinking of sky

you're walking along now
against the drop of the world
stretching for something
that's coming slowly unfurled
and the wind tugs your hair
your honey nut tresses

you simply stand there
accepting its caresses
because you can see it
out of the corner of an eye
the approaching blue promise
the falling dark sky

it's on the edge of the moment
that you awaken within
first clear and unbroken
as life gently begins
and you take your first breath
of the soft embracing wind

you can see it now
fully in focus
there's nothing else
nothing to be spoken
and now you're singing along
to the moment's true song.



Good morning good morning,
the sunrise awakens
us people to roaming
and the stirring heart quakens.

Honey pink skies
with hues of balm and the fresh
ripened smiles
of sweet nectar flesh.

Azure zig-zigging
fades into white
as clouds come nick-nacking
through beaming light.

Warmth peaks through
the tongues of dawn
and sunlight spews
forth like a restless fawn.

Good morning good morning
is the wishful breath of the wind
as it tips its head in a warning
for darkness' end.