March 08, 2010

second chances

Leftover cocoons of thought clutter this shelf
On which I dream of summer days without end:
A twilight that comes after the ocean has paused and sighed
Holding the sunshine like a treasure

I have been told there are sacrifices in this garden
Too sacred for mistakes to be held in this cradle
Too clean to cling to false illusions
that break when I try to chase them

Roots go down deep before the sprout:
The reward that stands written
Stills the breath in my mouth
Holds back the routine of tomorrow.
In this window of time while he is near,
I wait in the eclipse that is rest.

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