Identity

Identity

Angels in dust heaps,
moth winged superior
delta's in rust sweat.

All countries are done.

There's no chance or
      change from
      re-arrange face
in quiet grasses and
wind blown greenery
up in those tall Gibraltarean
trees swaying in their own
      invincible leaf-speckled
      applause.

The devil has wasted
time on me and the
     Lord is
     shepherd
     over mute
     stifled flocks.

I'm a stone in the creek
that caused ripples enough
        to be taken on further
        down stream

vibrations of a raw soul
in the summer morning
            hot wind, indentity
            dispersed, recalled
in crowds of dim
                   here-after.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

(June 22, 2013)

https://soundcloud.com/urlp/the-town