Twirling, Twirling, Twirling
Spinning Wildly
In Sunlight
In Unfiltered Aiming Sunlight
Winking Blinking Up Above The
World Is Fueled With
Popsicle Juice
And The Joints Of The Universe Are
Greased With Hope.
Hope, The Erratic, The Longed-For Bird
Who-‘s Wings Flutter
In My Chest,
Occupying My
Fervent Heart.
What Hand Could Mar This Perfect Day?
What Echo Could Steal This Joy
Away?
What Kind Of Love Could Make Me
Feel This Way?
I Am Undeterred, I Am
Unremorseful,
Unapologetically Myself
Unbound With No
Master Holding Sway.
Fairer Day, Fairer More Undeniable Hope,
Descend From Your Hiding Place.
Chapters Close, With The Bittersweet
Gravitational Weight Of
Shakespearean Tragedy.
Amen! So Be It!
Hallelujah!
We Cry.
Running, Running,
Feet Grow Wings,
I Breathe In Something
New.
Don-‘t You Love It?
You Walk Outside, Expecting Nothing,
And The Air Has Changed?
My Lips Curve In A Smile,
Because I Am Filled With Awe
And The Dome Above
Us, That Atlas Carries
On His Aching Swollen Shoulders
Is Full Of Blue And
Budding Stars.
We Scream And Shout,
Run All About;
Running Crazy On
November-‘s Flawless
Shivering Sky,
In The Bright, Bright
Sun And The Cold,
Cold Sky:
Sky That Is Our Friend,
Sky That Is Our Pristine Sadness,
Sky That Is Our Lifeline,
That The Very Sight Of
Triggers The Sweetest
Of Past Pain And Aged
Chills.
November-‘s Sad And Howling Wind
Whistles A Song We Knew,
Once: