morning sweet grass grows
nature covers it with life
we are born once more
morning sweet grass grows
nature covers it with life
we are born once more
in days my thoughts muddle i welcome the sun on my skin with sounds of wind
crawling, burnt with Holy Spirit at the foot
of the great Hall.
hot, no finger pointing
at the crossroad of the Elysian Dam
and that dusty quenchless sea.
fire, light unbearable
to those two brown eyes that hunger for voice.
an only champion
of beggar’s bowl and head lice cause.
circumstance only for
her lungs.
let the air flow in
as liberty swings too low to launch our mystic to truth.
He has told you,
now you listen.
inherit the earth underneath your nails,
and feed on recycled prayers,
while the horses gallop with broken hoof past the curfew of the silent night.
wearing your silver suit
as the king of my night
Marama waltzes here
through the ancient sky
commandeering his multitudes of star subjects
i too wait
for my one little beam of tender light
to show me his face
while i sit here
winking at his glory
from my servant’s chair
my sweet Marama
minha doce lua