Soul Conversations I


pricked finger bleeds
like any other
stains and fallen drops
spell out questions
meant to fade into the grains
and sworls of yesterday

billowing clouds fold the sky
sunlight calls
forlorn grey meets shafts of gold
trees sway in time to birdsong

innocently, I stand and watch
a stranger looking in
what may my purpose be otherwise?
in the this sideways existence
I find myself in

the stones cry out
a low rumbling protest
to prick the ears of the clouds
the sky
the sun
the heart in mending juts out
like a mishapened bone
neglected at the break

just a touch of kindness
of care
fingertip to petal
reaching out
said to the breeze
in the light
that is falling




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