On my heart of creation, your dialogue has turned
Its back on God-
The life is not worth living, in the eyes of man.
You take out the life and watch it strand by strand,
Like I really need you to let go, and burst into song.
You think you know the color of the wind,
The cool lips of trees that kiss and reverse the heart of
You think you know the cool wind in dark trees,
The times of spaces,
The times of beginnings-you steal my dialogue,
And toss it into the unknown.
The stars are bright tonight, here is Jupiter,
Kissing the moon-
Go ahead and kiss the planet,
She won’t be back, she won’t return like yellow
Daisies in a field of broken flowers.
She won’t return, on the back of creation-
You think you are the sinner, the sinner
Is the speaker.
You reap what you sow.
I am not a farmer, I do not bend over in the bright sunshine,
I do not eat anything.
You think you have respect, respect is in the giver,
The giver of the planets, who steal my dialogue.