Storms

Forget about the tempest
In this need:
We were not born into the chase
Of a butterfly’s scheme,
We were wished-for the cradles
Of a rose-divan lullaby,
Unchained prisoners captivated
By the chime of candles
& the kiss of a chamber’s cry:
Where we lie
In some god’s debt whispering
Tomorrow’s tale.
Who sings to us in an un-winded
Blue?
Who lets the air know not
The languages our hearts construe?
A muse’s lyre
Banks melodiously on the chords
A secret knew:
& sung it is thru waterfalls,
This sinuous chrystal, the feel
Of us in concert holds as true
As every beautiful purpose life adores.