by on July 28, 2008 :: 0 comments

I have been to your garden,
listening as the water falls
over rippled Terracotta walls
I have felt the flow of water through granite
hearing only movement whispering to birds,
and the chatter of children.
I have felt the sculpture of clay
moving over my body
defining my toes and feet
modeling my breasts
carving my eyes into eternity’s heart.
I stand watching you,
watching me,
and when you turn your back and leave
I sing prayers for you
so that you may be blessed
by skillful hands that guide through the universe
I am no less than geometric algorithms
no more than the fissures of gilded
bronze, silver, and gold.
I am the imagined
where dreams and death are made, separated,
and given to creation.

Leave a Reply