Fresh from the earth
Fresh from the earth comes a sense of rebirth
like the feeling of love with its tempting worth
but it’s only a sense wrapped up in denial
and bound with string of strong self control.
It hovers and loiters unsure how to shine
when the sun rises up on uncertain minds
scared to breathe in and feel how it burns
and frays the edges of enforced loneliness.
Thick as a cloud preparing to rain
or dismay as it builds no hope for today
the sense of love lies down in a ditch
and covers itself with dirt from the earth.
There it lies waiting those who would go
far from the realms of familiar abodes
to dig and remove and say, “I know you,
you’ve been some time in my unconscious mind.”
And the sense of love rises up from the grave
but only halfway and still covered in pain
till the breeze of reality blows a whirlwind
and spirals it up to the heights of desire.
The sense of love no one can ere see -
but I really don’t know, perhaps it’s just me
sensing and feeling from dreaming nights
what here on the earth is not meant to be!
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