Strike of light.

Hating on the minds of the shy

      Where the words seem to escape before our eyes

The ocean’s breeze will tell the time

When the trees make your bed and the forest floor is

Scattered with remains of what we used to be.

What we used to see. Before the buildings took our woods away and the

Cars killed our rivers. Meet me before the Crescent Moon,

We can share memories and tea. The music will fill our souls,

While the Earth spins, the walls begin to melt.

 Farther than my arms can reach, branches wrap around

My body while the cool air moves in. 

While the fire in my soul lights the way, 

you find time before death to love me and hold me.