It's raining. It's snowing.
It's snowing, it's raining.
If it's a trick,
don't tell me.
God's up late watching it all happen.
As for me,
I've got to borrow from all this chaos
to keep honest.
I am clumsy in my solitude.
Outmoded in my forms of sadness.
I love what matters
and I love what doesn't matter.
I love the starry mouth of the night
and the incidental blue threads of sky that outline it.
I love the curious music in your eyes.
I love the hinge of a blackcrow's wing.
I love how truth flows,
simple as water,
under the dead philosopher
and his failed system.
I love his failed system.
I love what is naked in your eyes.
Am I still talking.
Something invisible is pushing against my ribs & the air.
It says, " Live here. Live here.
Silence is a thing for returning to later. "
And so I apprenticed myself to the stuttering rain
and the noisy singing notes of snow
falling down through the air
and I received this knowledge.
" The wormy laws of men are overthrown
by the beautiful argument of a song."
If it's a trick,
don't tell me....Frank Tedesso 07
