Monday, May 25, 2009

stolen from bp (martyrology book 1)

we have moved beyond belief
into a moon that is no longer there

i used to love you (i think)
used to believe in the things i do
now all is useless repetition
my arms ache from not holding you

the winds blow unfeelingly across your face
& the space between us
is as long as my arm is not

the language i write is no longer spoken

my hands turn the words


my lady my lady

this is the day i want to cry for you
but my eyes are dry

somewhere i'm happy

not like the sky
outside this window
gone grey


this is the line between reality
when i hold your body
enter the only way i am

saint orm
keep her from harm

this ship journey safely

quick as it can


no movement in the sky
from the corner where the four winds lie

& the colour of her eyes too
did i tell you how my lady moves?

holds me to her tight
she can

love to feel her
moving with me

into that sweet togetherness presses us thru

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