There are leaves on fire of the
Singed Tree
But this darkness will not pass
So I follow the ghost
...
I was dreaming my dream in my dream
Soaked in your scent and tangled in your hair
Swimming in the dark to find the you of you
A drunken dharma set in motion, reaching for
...
This tropic
This Sargasso
I am lost here
Stranded and still
...
So let me suckle on the
Sun-baked breast that was
This day and pour
Its glory over my head
...
Come, come, orishas
Saints of passion
Consecrate this hallowed ground
Moist with sweat
...
Connected in dissonance
Riding the light of
Both particle and wave
Trapped in a matrix of thought that builds the frame
...
I picture that soul in a jar
I picture it sullen and defeated
I stare through the
Grease smeared glass that hides
...
There is a darkness I reach for
In these cynical times
At once cold and comforting
She allows me respite from
...
I free you now
From the realm of the small and improbable
And desire
This cycle of start and finish
...
Look for the beauty in
The old woman she has become
There, undiminished, is the fire
That set a heart aflame
...