17 March 2011

The Pyjamanalia Poem


Dawn will not forsake
Any precious moment.

Walk past the
Forest of thistles
Of the mind

There is the cry
Of the earth
For the light
Of the moon
When the clouds
Steal it back at night.

When I say the words,
I am a prayer;

When I sing,
I am the song.

Do not stop too long
In still waters;

Yet, be wise,
Reflect the day
Like a still lake
At night fall;

Hold no shame
When you have no blame –

Another name for love.

Fly with the birds flute -
And remember your
Laugh always.

No comments: