The Wind Has Seen Me Breaking

Ashes of happiness, Drowse of hazel clouds,

stir themselves into my solitude lamp.

There are no lives beyond this planet.

True words are but beads of tears as

innocence, like rainy rose, in poignancy

its beauty is shaped and brightened.

There, where paths consistently cut into

remembrance, this love shall be spelled

out aloud, in the silky evening of June.

“Letting go is but an ancient way of having.”

The lighter shade of the blue sky equals

my freedom, though I may have lived

my dreams in vain as the noble air turned

into autumn. The wind has seen me breaking

as I bent over, drifting along the golden ray.

2005-6-18