Sunday, April 20, 2014

The Breaking

There is something to winding back watches
begging their forgiveness
a crowd stands before you
Do they know your name
the man of the hour

freedom - our religion
dividing and subtracting time
muted eyes- a circus- a crime

enjoying collisions
while some walk away

The audience always the same
the road speaks 

I walk silent in your jacket
Etched in letters and sand scripts
begging to know the secret

all along not knowing
the answer to my own messages

the only thing that is

dotted I and punctuations to metered rhyme
are finished by
you

Freedom is my name
Air is my love
you are my sky

if this finishes your sentences and phrases
I can be the audience with finished irises

with lost puzzle pieces that along the way make a picture
of roads that meet

in the middle where I know your name.