My Voyage Home

The weathered face of the cliff
reveals her age,
freckled with snow and ice,
stony wisdom of a sage.

A waterfall of chiseled stone
frozen ice like foam,
dribbled milk on god’s chin,
messy messiah reveals himself again.

We peak like the mountaintops
and pause when we feel desire;
infinite stretching in and out,
ice can still create fire.

Taking turns around the curves,
we speed and we go slow.
Even when we’re lost in pine
our bodies form a sure arrow.

We make-believe valleys,
fictional tomorrows still unknown.
The future finds me in your arms,
my only home.

Leon Bridges “Coming Home”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s