The moon-lit path

November 15, 2007
The moon-lit path
Shimmered and swirled
Sometimes destruction
In those swirls
Like an angry river
Steaming and slippery
The wet mossy rocks
Point to the moon
Do not dare to
Cross those stones, for
You are sure to fall;
Cold and hot is the water
Straight from the snow
In the lonely high sierras
Kissed by the sun
It starts to run
Into silent pools
And sleepy streams
Into rushing falls, black lagoons
Where the tiger lily grows
I dance there oftimes
With my bare white feet
Deep, deep blue
Veins and eyes
If you were to find me
You will never forget
The white of my skin,
The black of the water,
The orange of the lilies
All lying submerged
In that half-remembered

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