Sotto Voce

Brisk Bright Colors Blown across an
Immense Board of Possibilities.
Marvel at the Mind's Hidden Imagination.
...

Just the thought of quietly Possesing;
Someone so Precious, most Worthy of Caressing.
And Keeping, and Holding, and Squeezing so close.
A Woman, a Friend, a Queen of the Most.
...

How can I Write without YOU?
When You are the Honey, and I am the Bee.
When You are the Land, and I am the Sea.
When You are the Music, and I am the Song.
...

If I am the Damaged Flower that Struggles
Through Multi-Layered cold Concrete,
Then Watch Slowly as Life will not be Denied, no Matter what Apparent Obstacle.
...

We are We. And when We learn that We and alone can Overcome All We ever Feared; and Right the Wrongs of centuries Past; then We will Finally understand that it Is We and Only We The People; who can Solve Our Problems.
...

I Write this Letter, while Dark, Heavy Storms,
Gather quietly in the Heavens, to Plot Mayhem.
My Fingers Wrestle with stagnant Pen, as I
Assemble Jumbled thoughts of just what to Say.
...

Who am I, to Stand Guard of False Perception,
And be a Recipient of Celebrated Infection?
Who am I, to Run from well Hidden Shame,
That Quietly Strangles; First to Blame?
...

My Mind is like the Moon,
And the Sun is my Thought.
...

I ask, I plead; I negotiate in Hidden Silence.
Do Our Rites of Passage consists of Open Violence?
Must we count the Coffins that are never Sealed.
Can we really afford Deferred Dreams to be Killed?
...

Solutions to Problems or
Excuses for Failures.
We Grapple with Choices
That Burden Our Layers.
...

I Traveled Best on the Winds of my Thoughts.
Hoping to Arrive at a Time where LOVE Was at its Most. The Joy of Not Knowing what lied Ahead was Worth
More than Gold.
...

Will I keep my Color in Heaven?
Like so Many Fallen Angels that
Couldn't fit in to a System that Judged,
We sometimes Forget about the Rejected.
...

The Heart Reveals what the Mind Conceals.
...

Soft Pastures of Grass, so Vast and so Real.
Endless Valleys of Green, just Waiting to Feel.
The Touch of a Hand that Desperately needs.
The Innocence of Life, found Only In Thee.
...

Gentle, Quiet, and covered with Soft Plume.
Oh Baby Bird. Your fragile wings shudder
From the Frigid Breath of Morning's Song.
Rhythmic hungry Chirps Echo so Silently.
...