Cry

I turn in upon myself
Into the landscapes where I
Can dream- of things no one
Will ever see
I walk along the paths
That know me,
Stepping over the bridges I built
Washing my face in the rivers I cried
Beginning in the mountains
I ride the streams
down to the wide river's current
without vestiments
I set fire to the night
patting embers of my past
and wait till morning light
Lets me wander on
I see the hills now, sliding as I pass
I watch as the dawn floods my veins
And with no resistance
I let it into my pulse
the tender rocks
smoothly scattered among my fingers
the wet grass holding my spine against the earth
The ease of living
Where my heart rests
It cries not in pain
for all that has passed
It cries not for what may not be
It cries beacuse it knows,
that only it can give it what it
wants most
desires most
I remember making love to you
Young in our bodies,
The little pretty hotel room
Painted blue
Your perfect skin
touching me in the light
I touch that lost young love.
I cry for that lost young love.