I want to fall into the arms of love
lay my head against her silken sleeve,
listen to the breath within
strike the spark of fire again.
I want to wake up with my heart on tap
bleeding life into my limbs,
then climb onto the highest branch
and learn again to sing.
Beneath the layers of what was lost
behind the smoke and mirrors,
something sleeps as still as death
feeding on my tears.
And I can’t open up my throat
and trust the wind to speak.
I can’t lay upon the branch and
trust it not to break.
The cradle never rocked
is the soul that never rolled
nor walked along the river bank
And fell into the fold.
Now so empty, halfway old
more than my breath is growing cold.
And nothing warms me to my toes,
and below these feet nothing moves.
Within this soil nothing grows.