For Life
It is not the sun
caressing winter mornings
nor love's embrace
though this comes close
it is the dance with words I crave
their slow unfurling
below the conscious mind
of censure and regret
I conjure feelings of tenderness
or rage and let them wrap
the image that I hold
as fleeting this may be
no time to let it fade from sight
it must be clothed in music
made tangible as song
breath rising into praise or curses
captured as the beam of light
upon a prism's moving face
to spin its rainbows
across a brimming heart.
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