The Country of God

Greentide waters drift into my rambling thoughts, breaking in waves of

sunlight and poppy seeds upon the face of one content to see

his thoughts meandering down into the ripplings of the quiet deep.

My beautiful is hiding in a tree above my stretching grasp,

but soon I will know, and rise to fill the space between spaces.

Her face and the fabric of her clothes soften the light as she waits.

A note struck by the breeze floats in the tone of the wind's voice over a hill,

hurries across a field of green and white to whisper in my ear and sleep in my smiling hands.

On this plane, in this world of truth, my burning lips can wait forever.

Clouds pass by above the country of God, and none of them obscure the sun.

The walls inside my mind are soft and smooth and delicate.

I hear the wind converse with my beautiful, their words hold the sides of my head by.

Love twines around my fingers as if it were blades of grass,

hope heals my wounds in salve and white petals,

faith leads me to thoughts of rising to find my beloved.

In the quiet of the world, my chest drums softly on the greatest of these.