Sunday Evening's Song Poem by Maja Dezulovic

It is Sunday,
I am awake,
I am alive -
There is some sanity.
No need for
rushing,
complaining,
harshness -
none of that profanity!

I listen calmly
to Ghosts -
handed to me
a couple weeks ago
by someone whom
I hope will become
a mentor,
a friend -
author John Connolly.

Outside my window
Hares sit On The Mountain;
nature is kind
as Green Grass chimes
through the Tunnel
of my mind.

Every Dead Thing
blossoms
shades of rosemary,
lavender
and blue hues
reflecting spring.

The sun quietly sets.
I feel Your Ghost floating
through this rickety old house,
and the cloak of ancestral wisdom
knows our fate
but when I ask, whispers
Not yet.

The azure sea splashes
to remind me that
Love will flow Like Blood
until one day
it is thrown
into the heart of the Fire -
when my body is Dead
and nothing is left
but to extinguish the flames
with salty, red mud.

Too many words
and far too much frivolous thinking.
That's how I know that
It's Getting Late In The Evening.