Three Hours – 7 PM

YOU were the ground:
so happy, shoveling the sand;
so joyful, rolling in the grass --
soft and squishy, bare feet running,
the smell of flowers filling your nose, and
the earth itself filling your heart --
you were that ground.

YOU were the water:
lying on your back, arms spread wide,
held by the liquid embrace that cushioned you,
sound of the ocean breathing, as
the sun set on what was your tension --
ripples spreading from a black pond hidden
from the eyes of all but few --
you were that water.

YOU were the fire:
city lights ablaze, like the lights in your eyes --
hot the feeling, crowds in a frenzy,
inhaling excitement, exhaling the feeling
of bodies alive with the flames of desire,
two later, alone, in a tangle of burning,
and more, in the words you pour out in volcanoes --
you are that fire.

NOW become the wind:
let got of the past, and your ease, and your passion,
for opposites live in your very existence,
they're all of them you
yet they're none of them all --
there's more the moments that have been, there's those
you have yet to feel, like this one, like this one --
now become the sky, and the clouds, and the wind.

Three Hours – 3 PM

WHEN the rain goes by, the smell still hangs
 heavy, like an entrusted secret;
 sweet, like cracking voices still singing
 fresh where the polychrome bends

YOU gave me a glimpse
 of your hidden heart:
 the clouds still passing, and the rain still falling,
 yet the grain still waving in your changing eyes

MAGICAL, like the story you live in,
 mystical, like the respect we all deserve --
 the rain will pass my friend, it will,
 and while the world's still big, it's
 no bigger than all that's still there
 for you to find

Three Hours – 8 AM

FEEL it now, feel it,
 breathe in, breathe out;
The world knows your name, but
 not how to pronounce --
There was a day coming,
 it's here, it's here;
And maybe there's more, now, than
 doubt and fear

YOU gave up your heart, and
 you gave in to those
 who said, "all you will be is
 the path that you chose" --
But yesterday isn't
 in charge of today,
 and the popular roads aren't
 the last only way --

SO find yourself driving
 towards where you would be;
Come out of the alleys of
 shorn misery,
Go out to the country,
 fill up, and reach high:
 the meaning is yours,
 because you

 signify

An Absence

I guess it’s silence that I fear,
Or maybe crave, I cannot tell:
These strange, familiar feelings — lost
Inside this world I know so well

And all that once was certitude
Comes crashing down in dust and din,
And what a mess I’ve made of things
And what an empty man I’ve been

The fullest, widest feeling: lack.
A prairie spreading everywhere:
This absence that I must traverse
Seems endless, echoless,

And bare