Tags
becoming, connection, death, faith, fearless, grace, home, life, love, old maps, passion, postmark, reason, restless, spirit, truth, wandering
as eternal
my beholding
to the places still I go
tho pushed between
these edges
sharp and deep
as truth was
held beneath the tides
to bring the drifter home –
and set against
the lover’s sacrifice
as dark
the ways to travel
and worried there alone
of where the stars were leading
(let them lead)
casting long
our tattered nets
into the sweet divide
made between this world
and those beyond
fragile
as the ancient cord
barely seen at all –
tho stretched to hold
of all together now
as one to understanding
let here the thread be cut
as each was sworn
another time
to be
longing
keeps a whisper
to remind us of the rest
when songs were sang –
and hearts
knew only one
garner me
the sacred cup –
let my body rise
beholding to the night
would come for me
. . .
tornadoday 