Awake sleeping birds to the sun

A worker off to morning town,

Leaves the awakened one’s news behind and frowns.

Then in repentance drops; pick axe left by bundled hay.

Kisses the young children where they play.

(A world of dew, is a world of dew. And the journey just “hub-hub”.)

Watching fences of the enlightened, falling down;

And then enter, young brisk rider’s on their elite horses, brown.

And worlds of love – finally hang out on spring trees;

And Buzzing for honey – the fertility bees.

(Let’s all adore. All in the same level of clouds this one moon. Fortunately, the sad expression in the eye of a caged bird.)

Your myths reveal to others – these lost souls of unwanted faces,

folk unfortunately born in the wrong body, time and places.

Who speak only in hostile flowery tongue – craving to be born;

Listening not feeling good the old half-forgetful men.

Too old, too blind – painters of colours on frozen canvas.

(Being born the lowest of the low, I view the sun at night.)

I saw a raw sea roofed over with rainbows

Holding – “awoke” young lovers – arms in misty passion.

And then saw them turn to the sky with open faces,

While blinded in bold golden glory.

(Just bent on viewing cherry. “Down on your knees, on your knees”)

The descendants sun traces arcs across the sky,

A process in the weather of hearts

Which damps dry and warms low parts.

Forget a world of suffering, even spring flowers bloom.

Sometimes, in remembering better times,

storm clouds open a freezing tomb; you can retreat to the mothers womb.

Where the darkness is turned away, in the weathered eye, of an eye,

The empty frightened yearns; unwanted years and years of goodbye.

(After all, yes after all. I commanded myself, not you.)

High surfs breaking roar, don’t forget- half light,

The seas power might.

Foams welcome rush, and what then;

Suffering – washed over the angled rocky ledge.

I swim toward the shore because I must: am alone – rocky, ambitious, beauty queen.