The Low Road

Lost

Leaves in the wind, that's what we are
Never knowing when we may pass this way again
--If ever
Yes, there may be stars, but there are also clouds
And trees; with wind and rain to chill the bones
A river of tears are not enough to quench the thirst of time
Yet, enough to flood the halls of the Sacred Ones
Whose ears are numbed and ache with prayers

Such disrepair--this world
The hopelessness and dispair
to be tossed about on the unseen tides in this sea of nature
Ever hoping to find and smell
The sacred flower of love, for even a day
In amongst the weeds and brambles of life's spacious abyss
Like a boat in a hurricane, all hope shall founder
--Just drops of blood in a endless sea