Sunday, August 22, 2010

A Bird

What a love it was
To see and survive
A life

One side
Wants to be understood -
-- graces and blessings of a love spotted and cherished
The other
Wants to be left alone -
-- the yearnings of disappearing and erasing the existence of memory

What a love it was
To fly and fall
This soul

Trenches of bones
Walking over the past and memories
Smiling as they come


Saturday, August 21, 2010

A World of its Soul

Sometimes, when the fog lies unkissed by the light, it wonders if the world has a soul. A collective soul. Not collective conscious, thank you Mr. Durkheim. Like a person.