Coffee pot gurgle
vibrates through this old house.
Death waits at the door.
When night and day
are but a swirl of dark and light,
When only wind whispers time
and stars are blinks of an eye,
dew rises to quench the thirst
of life as the end begins anew.
Purple tendril cloud
lifts from the lush bed of green
into winds of change
Tumbling like a glass off the edge of a table,
Spilling, spilling, spilling
No thunder rolls, no lightening flashes
No warning of tears that pour like rain
Wetting the skin, soaking the soul
Drilling, drilling, drilling
Through flesh and bone to the core of the heart,
Releasing silence into gasps and groans
Until breath comes once again
Dripping, dripping, dripping
Washing away all that is not you
As you learn to drink your own tears
Watering the seed ready to bloom within your soul
Glistening, glistening, glistening
Sun is breaking through the clouds
Tears you’ve wiped become diamonds in your hand
Listening, listening, listening
You feel a tug and hear the words within
It is your voice…speak!