Mind's Refuse

My unclear mind’s refuse, to read your deepest thoughts; this hallowed consciousness, now reamed of its trust; the lack of you, beside me walked, alone in teaching’s grasp; they slowly close in fear, as surrounding as mourn's weary weep; all shadowed is my twin, as I walk slowly there; up towards that stairway, leading our bonding home; will’s wish be spoke, into your embrace I long; this thought, oh the tears, upon my cheek now flow; fore long, in suffering’s whet, they no longer sow; in example thus, to express, my most profound love in too; your thoughts do surely know mine, and how I cry for yours; that hate, which is my loneliness, in our times apart; this deep, this thing, which turns my grace to thresh; to my amaze, these locks and bindings, keep me in heart’s loss; with each wring, my soul is bared, upon it’s line and age; expose' the ending's rode, at each and every gate; so lost, I express the weakness, that I do not smile; and this owned one shown, is anyone’s, and not the truth; that doe so skewed, within I’ve kept witch in, and in kind turn; in chance, this dark escapes and arises, in mind wherein; and with ease this done, as I’ve done ere before; the truth of fading facts so true, without you, there is such me; to this, an only frown, and never more to smile; I need your tome, your tone, your singing loud and edgy voice; to wright my keel, and gently sail, upon the winds of wings you bring; your touch surrounds, my spirit toils; this soil I am, to your yearning roots; an essence gained, is that you knowingly show; upon my searching face, to find the heat of your embrace; this life, this breath, our nature’s gift, the graving grace that is you; release that first thought and bring, brightness to my most profound dark; yours is that strength, that honesty, that brilliance sown; to gently warm, my weary of this world soul; this, is that which feeds the need, to fulfill my will; and how this, is needed sown by all; to ease the chill, that breeze which fear so breeds; my spirit kneels, in stunning stupor’s stain; as the irreality of these spinning tines, when gently plucked do toll; my spirits veiled to that, which you show, as life’s true bright; this needs be to me, through these eyes, it is I your seer; my fear of loss, your light, your love, your call; self’s essence freed, my heart now bled, my home is there with you. Michael Darrell Walker