Prayers like rain

Prayers like rain falling down on the surface of an ocean of sorrows.

I walk down a street

I walk down a street
There is a deep hole in the pavement
I fall in.
I am lost ... I am hopeless
It isn't my fault

I walk down the same street
There is a deep hole in the pavement
I pretend I don't see it.
I fall in again.
I can't believe I'm in the same place
But it isn't my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

I walk down the same street
There is a deep hole in the pavement
I see it is there.
I still fall in ... it's a habit.
My eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get our immediately.

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the pavement.
I walk around it.

I walk down another street.

You spoke of The Beach

You spoke of The Beach

and how now

the young

could not find

that isolation.

Text-gen I thought;

No matter where -

twenty-four seven

woven in their matrix:

no hiding place for solitude,

no escape into a fantasy,

lived for a while -

until its walls fall down.

And of my end of the hippy-trail -

sweet essence of Nepal

that fogged my mind;

brought by friends

who had scaled heights

rope and piton in hand;

I rose a little,

then plummeted -

broken minded.

You will have the sea

You will have the sea

in all her moods,

in morning weeds

and fiery sunset

and soft touching sand

or storm surf surge.

These are yours

to know

and to love.

We talked out the coffee shop

We talked out the coffee shop,

you and I and the others;

of being and losing,

and what we are,

and how we lost,

because of what we are,

and how,

being what we are,

the losing is what we did.

You,

playing the drama queen,

hurled yourself down

screaming -

“So you want to divorce me!”

at the feet of a man

you were not married to;

loosing what might have been,

because you did not dare

want it to be.

I,

being too small for myself,

left quietly in the night;

loosing what I could no longer be,

because I had lost wanting it to be.

And she,

because loosing what you love

is harder,

if that love is different;

and the losing is someone else's

not wanting it to be.

Our losses stood naked for a moment,

looking at each other -

and then we went our ways.