Ginger souls

Over pinewood horizon I saw your eye
– a history of violence
of stone and wonder why’s.
The tree bone skin form your life,
creates reflection of my mind –
to cast a shadow on the mirror of the sun
and enlighten the dreadful sins
– of your heart.

Through ice painted windows
I watch you die
The change will come —
built on grapes and golden rye
to grow a foreign tender dream
on empty little skies.

The cracks of stolen empires
fulfill our mindful spring.
To envy Mother earth
and slowly give a birth
to new Godforsaken things
in our devoted broken lives
– filled with scattered filthy lies.

In your mind a memory will fade away.
Lay down your soul and let it linger,
lay your roots to rest on tiny brilliant fingers.
Watch my life grow into pieces,
and please wrap yourself
around my starving soul of ginger.