Less and less she holds my hands for perhaps she’s found herself dying. Then she sends the sun to hold my face and tell me a new life is arriving. Stranger, I love you, and soon it will be morning. Maybe the feeling stays perched in my heart but my courage to admit it will be over. So instead I made you … We seem to suffer the same ailment. That you and I walk alike. That we’re left behind as a result of ourselves and the inadequacies of our mind. Our soil is plagued, … There are very few people in my life in whose garden we share common seeds. With deep value, loving awareness, pure and transparent streams. I find myself in foreign beds with soil … Let the search for this good feeling rid you of names and plans, as expectation lay a deceptive path and a burden to the hands. This path we’ve walked together through the buds and herbs we planted, a reminder that not all is forever except for the memory of this garden we dance in. It starts when the sun rises, for it nurses my grateful face. Sat round a table a morning cup and a plangent cry to swallow first thing. And somewhere between the sweeping … And with heart, with time, my name took on a new meaning. It was free in it’s life, definitive of love, indebted to no one and nothing. Oh what it is;to breath with two working feet.As they carry you along and you move with the heartand you dance along through the street. It’s with heaviness in my legs and a bitterness in my heart that I promise the land I’ll keep going. For it’s my calloused hands that weave the wild grass and write …