After years of being a closet writer, my poems started to tell me they wanted to get out more . I have a roving rambling heart myself so I completely understand . Happy travels .

Friday, September 29, 2006


Grey skies, grey skies
Peaces out the hollowed eyes
Reds the heart, curls the hair
Lungs go deeper in the air

Chest is cleaning, sorting trash
Making room and burning ash
Calmly passions slowly boil
Becoming pure to know their toil

The mission will come when it needs me
And I am becoming ready

Calling, calling, I have come
To find it all or only some
Bit by bit another piece
Falls into its own release

Lonely, all my heart's desires
Old and holding ancient fires

The mission will come when it needs me
I am becoming ready

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