life

   
   
   
   
I used to draw flowers in  
notebooks  
  (flowers of mad dreams  
      and troubadour nights)  
   
I used to collect the lost  
feathers of birds  
  ( I didn't want them to  
       get lonely)  
   
I used to gather pieces  
of existence like postage  
stamps and stick them  
on the wall next to my bed  
  (creatures of sleep in  
    my small hands)  
   
and wait for the morning  
sun to gather the fragments
in it's glorious robes of light    
  ( kingdoms, thrones,  
    crown's of fire, hero's)  
   
the beginning always  
present  
   
the end unimaginable  
   
no Christ on the cross  
   
no Buddha to enlightened
   
bravery of the day  
captured in the wind  
   
the sweet spirit arose  
   
and sang  
   
and sang  
   
and sang