June 21, 2012
The look from your eyes into mine
found a flaw and entered, just a part.
Found this flaw and used my weakness
to enter and soil my heart.
Weakened, I am lost.
Looking high above, into the sky,
I wonder. Could the wind take me,
lift me as a kite,
to feel the wind beneath,
a wind of stirring light?
I ask of this kite,
I a prisoner of soil and green,
“Search for tender lands.”
Search for ground where falls are gradual not steep,
lands which lessen the fall to surprise from peace.
My kite soaring through the air whispers,
“I know a place. I will take you there.”
Through a flock of blued wings we were carried through the air.
Tirelessly created currents,
leading to truth, bare.
Deeper blue and into the darkness, the kite
moved me to windless floating from flight.
A single star then broke through the dark.
The stirring light I had then caught,
in these eyes.
The eyes in which you found my flaw
had brought, to me, the peace I sought.