Two Little Birds In Grass

Two Little Birds In Grass
© Surazeus
2018 03 23

Two little birds hop in the dry spring grass
and peck to find lost memories in my heart.
Late afternoon sunlight of the March day
glimmers gold on the white trunk of the tree
that watches me through the window and waits.
The dark shadow on the wall is not me.
To dream the history of the universe
I finger the wrinkles on my left hand
since no fortune teller can understand
the way afternoon sunlight knows my name.
I lose so I refuse to play the game.

The book on the coffee table reveals
the map to the lost memories of my heart.
No wind blows in the late afternoon light
that shimmers over veneer of my face
I hide with the mask I carved from dead tree.
I follow the bees to find honeycombs.
The dark shadow on the grass is not me
so I touch the air that swirls from my eyes
and I float away into voiceless skies
the way afternoon sunlight shows my soul.
I will disappear into the White Whole.

One little bird in the grass flies away
at the whisper of memories from my heart.
I want to wash my soul with the sunlight
so I stand in the grass a thousand years
to watch trees sprouting from palm of my hand.
I ask the shadow the name it conceals.
Each leaf that falls from the indifferent tree
becomes one shard in the puzzle of me
but in the flow of water I still hear
the ancient song of the first flash of light.
I can teach myself the spirit of flight.

I will the little bird to return home
at the flutter of memories from my heart.
The gold sun I thought would forever shine
fades slowly into nothing of white blooms
that never dream of me on hands of trees.
I become the shadow that fades away.
I look at my hand in the lightless house
to read the fortune I already know,
that I dissolve into the sun-drenched yard
and grow as flowers who will watch you live.
You will feel me with you in the sun glow.