Beneath the sun,
piercing the cloudless blue,
a confusion of gulls raises
A song of the heart
disappears from the lips,
a thoughtful prayer left undone.
In the lingered image, the last
of a woman’s eyes, deep and blue;
within that moment
a slow river runs, as it always has,
finding its way –from cloud to sea.
Am I the tree...or the hand that touches it,
Am I in the journey, or its cause...
The dream seems like a vapor
and the world a mere tissue,
I can reach my hand
into a living night to touch cold fire.
Let me awaken -came a whisper-
then lips answered full:
the dream ends where the dream begins
in a heart of love, in arms
that will be empty until I fill
a space created by a river that flows
so simply from thee to me.
Howard D. Moore resides in Detroit, MI., USA. He is a writer and government relations consultant. His professional, educational background is in law and public policy. He writes political issues and social commentary on a number of blogs. His literary work includes styles in fiction, poetry, prose, translations from classics, and Eastern forms. He has published two books of prose, and several magazine articles and anthologies. His current projects include a novel, and a book of poetry expected in Fall, 2014. Read more at http://refugeeofpoetry.blogspot.com/
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