I choose
this kind love.
These stars in the trees
beyond the river’s glowing fog.
This heaven that slips through
the layers of my humanity.
Life
is precious
to the whispering
deep ones.

I choose
this kind love.
These stars in the trees
beyond the river’s glowing fog.
This heaven that slips through
the layers of my humanity.
Life
is precious
to the whispering
deep ones.
How beautiful,
to discover the stars
one precious night
at a time.
But isn’t it entirely beautiful
to be you.
I will always be
the divine love
that is
us.
But there you are, darling softness.
Keeper of my hopes, dreamer of my dreams.
How do you hold my heart, this night?
Full of dear, sweet memories.
Full of dear, dear
days and nights gone by.
Perhaps
you might ask your heart what it wants.
Perhaps
you might listen.
Perhaps.
I must remind myself:
the wildflowers will wait.
Shall I be sensible
a moment?
Oh, dying to live,
dear dreary day.
Let you find me
twisted beautifully
among the berry vines.
Let you be the one
to be sensible.
And when there is sun
such as this,
and when there is beautiful drift
and swaying trees,
I see life as it is
and I know it is good.
For, the mind, I know
tells stories.
And yet
perfect truth
is this touch of fresh air.
Just another season.
Another precious season
of darling life.
I see nothing but darling
and delight
in all things.
For the aches are there
to be held
by the beauty
that is love.
And the joys
rocket to the sky
on wings of their own.
Is this not heaven where I lie?
What sweeter perfection
might the illusion
of some other day
bring?