>
Don’t walk away in the angry light
of dissolution.
Differences happen.
Give deference a chance
to curve the light into
a spectrum of grace.
Please stop and turn to
me and let’s stand
in the charcoal base
of who we are.
Maybe then the passion
red as blood fruit
will spill on us.
>
many roads I have seen
yet the one before me
calls and curves an echo
into a question mark
man made rails
guide man made
indents
the hills rise to brush me
the valleys bow to invite
humble awareness’s
in the shadows
of gravel and sage
coyotes whine
and brown tailed hawks
wander their own
guided rails
and I have freedom
to course the rabid
scapes unknown to me
top down
white walls
releasing
the echos to
their aires
>
eyelashes brush the incense
and stir into spaces
between
senses
sight
silent
as night
and blur into faces
skin brushes the intent
Gerald the Writer 