Poetry

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When I look out
the window I see
my very own mood
reflected back to me.

A smeared sky
of blueish-gray
More so now, than
on a sunny day

I am glad
You are the King
and I put all hope
in your sovereignty.

I could do
the quick, easy thing.
Reach for some sugar
or cup of caffeine.

And try raising
the sun in the sky,
Bringing a flourescent
rush to my mind.

But that would in the end
be nothing to me.
A half-hour later
I'd feel twice as empty.

So I place myself
where you can build a fire;
You bring the fuel;
I bring my desire.

A soft glowing
crackly spark
starts in my belly
and touches my heart.

I wonder how many
miss this luxury
of being lit up
by the flames of the King.

Honey Stone (C) 2007

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