From the threshold of my dreams.
Deeply dampened by shame ,
clouded by fears .
Educated , but colloquial be damned
trying to keep the door cracked open .
Weeping for a woman
I did not know
from a time I am not from .
Quiet pride and pretty grace
drenched in the purest sorrow.
She was righteous among
the chosen .
Not a lot of noise as I
pass through the years .
Though I feel the Earth’s vibrations.
I feel the blood of the Earth .
Clouded by the winds desperate vision
and the silvery quiet of dawn .
I am looking for promises
I need to believe .
As I exit from my dreams
through the crack in the door .
Maybe I’m ready to make
some noise .