when I live from my soul

when I live from my soul,
I hear only a gush
of a simmering silence,
coursing through every pore,
I feel only the call
of a resplendent cosmos
spark these resting limbs
and firefly thoughts,
I see only the changing frame
of a mysterious window,
open to the wind,
light and dark,
I smell the mud and wood
of a wild and simple home,
raised on a warm bed
of dead skin and bones;

when I live from my soul,
I tear open this throbbing heart,
to bare it all and walk on,
even as it bleeds,
with everything I own. 

on fire

the winds are gone,
the clouds are gone,
the birds are gone,
the rains are gone,
the trees are gone;

but the sea she stays
still in the distance,
roaring
with every breath,
with the silence
of what was,
of what could not be,
of what is,
here,
on fire,
between earth
and heaven.

everything has a voice

listen

to the brush of breath
against every skin,
and you will know
how everything has a voice,
singing through
those silent pores 
standing guard
like loyal sentries,
speaking across the void,
from skin to skin.

art for heart's sake

sometimes
what is needed
is not display,
is not a warrior
with ammunition 
to destroy 
what must die,
at some cost;

sometimes 
what is needed
is art,
is an artist
diligently at work
at his craft,
breathing life into 
what lies in his hands now;

the true warrior of heart -
making art for heart's sake.