small pieces of duct tape
hold together the world of man
as our lights dangle from the christmas tree
the dried out christmas tree
in the eyes of humans
the spark remains
laboring behind masks of sadness
the concrete of laborers
cement, broken bridges of ages
the community of unconsciousness
the disjointed dance of unknown drummers
from somewhere deep, longing glows
the lost ember of certainty, grace,
sweetness;
our home we left eons ago,
we seed scattered winds
we wanderers of empty heart
the optical fibres of light
hold together the certainty of love
as one ignites beside the other
and celebration begins by fragrance on the wind
all it takes is one small cake
to feed the heart, hungry to know
the silence inside, the place where we hide
is both begining and ending
of the road home.
small hearts, small lights
in the dried-out tree of man
the dried-out sea of man
the dried-out me of man.
inside the desert,
the single drop