Thursday, 4 June 2009

My Friend

The world waits for your bite.
Like the lips of winged minstrels
Wait for the morning.
I see you the way God sees you:
Asleep with dawn’s pink flames
Across your face.
I see you as a new city.
Hot streets shadowed
In medieval spells.

I see your soul
As a vast landscape,
With a dragon glen
Through the middle
And loud rivers
And mountains that
Harbour vicious weather.

I see in you
A god-like sky
Decked out in
Endless silver,
The voice of the
Black earth
The first ever song
Before words.

No comments:

Post a Comment