WE speak to the shadows of broken teeth
dealing cards in meditation never knowing respect.
What geometry of chance sometimes violent outcome
Wishing for gold.
Instead picking up dirt like a dead King buried
with his weapons of War.
How life shapes our life How desperate moments
shackle our heart inside a broken bleeding heart.
Buried inside moving clouds how souls watch love ~~
upon these fields so old as a white horse grazes
in a meadow outside your kitchen window — gold.
How afraid i am that there may be a moment when I fail
you my friend.
:: 04.07.2022 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 