God Was His Shadow, the Flowers Died
Beautiful like a warm painting against Heaven's dust of sky.
Where is eternity and the mind's dust of kind?
Through my hands hairs from a lonely past.
I have broken the mist
and the rainbow kissed the queen.
In the mirror, wings lit midnight magic's cup.
Leaves, water with time.
A kiss.
I wish to be a butterfly inside of
Bob Dylan's stomach breathing
night prints of the moon
and naked babies in France paints the sky
red wearing fashion models.
Resting on a bottle of midnight stones
and flames rolling on peace and dreams.
The sweet heaven I hear the laughter of earth
and the rain was summer on your lips.
A pretty day of sun melted from the show
of colors and God was his shadow the flowers.
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