BabyGrace
Refugee
glow and dust
in this cosmic birth
pinpricks flipped from heaven
dazzle me in the darkness
and there are no streets
or clocks to divide
and conquer my frail life
because I am small
as I melt in to the cold rock
pressing into my spine
and I belong
here where the heavens open
and spill their peace into me
~~~
I find you here
where time never grows cold
you sit on my hip
all ice cream stains and dirt
your smile is like the joyous
fluttering of a piano
in full flight
oh, never grow old
may your hand stay small enough
to hold this world whole
and may your heart stay full enough
to never rediscover love.
~~~
"the movement of the sand dunes"
drifting in the aftermath
on a preoccupied desert of life
be just a grain of sand
balking at the glorious prospect
of becoming one with the shape-shifting sea
petal shells lag daintily
wondering about their worth
and you are just here
a sad, ordinary piece of rock
milking a dream of starting
a rolling mountain so big
it could bury all your awkward roughness
and you slip through this hand quietly
with the admiration of a thousand fading suns
~~~
these are just some scribbles, hardly poetry and i dont feel much like trying. the last one i barely remember what I was thinking when i wrote it, a little too late at night, but since it's got rocks in it, maybe Alisaura will enjoy it
in this cosmic birth
pinpricks flipped from heaven
dazzle me in the darkness
and there are no streets
or clocks to divide
and conquer my frail life
because I am small
as I melt in to the cold rock
pressing into my spine
and I belong
here where the heavens open
and spill their peace into me
~~~
I find you here
where time never grows cold
you sit on my hip
all ice cream stains and dirt
your smile is like the joyous
fluttering of a piano
in full flight
oh, never grow old
may your hand stay small enough
to hold this world whole
and may your heart stay full enough
to never rediscover love.
~~~
"the movement of the sand dunes"
drifting in the aftermath
on a preoccupied desert of life
be just a grain of sand
balking at the glorious prospect
of becoming one with the shape-shifting sea
petal shells lag daintily
wondering about their worth
and you are just here
a sad, ordinary piece of rock
milking a dream of starting
a rolling mountain so big
it could bury all your awkward roughness
and you slip through this hand quietly
with the admiration of a thousand fading suns
~~~
these are just some scribbles, hardly poetry and i dont feel much like trying. the last one i barely remember what I was thinking when i wrote it, a little too late at night, but since it's got rocks in it, maybe Alisaura will enjoy it
