March 3, 2017

Dam that rushing river

Wash that impure soul

If I ain’t Christ again then

I am a lump of coal

A Million years of pressure

Or one day on the fire

I am as useful as

The Element of desire

Your Eyes are flowing water

Into the curious clay

In beauty human form ferment

And who next to I stay

Carved by rushing voices

Sing stream current lust

A person catches glimpses of

Pure beauty’s handmade bust