( Ben Heine - Art ) If we lie next to one another, do you think we’ll forget the world? If our fingers hunt like tongues, do you think we’ll stumble upon silence? The dream begins the same, I’m older. My mind and body, slower. The dream ends the same, you lying next to me, fingers wagging. If we rest next to one another, do you think we’ll fail to notice war? If our tongues search like fingers, do you think we’ll assemble peace? Naked, both shining with grief, we sense the other’s bones like a sniper, spin new selves with each innocent, (child, dream, mother, hope, father) slain. Tonight we’ll unwind nightmares, our imaginings, dreams, will begin the same, mind and body slower, wagging, tongues speaking the drama from slumber. Copyright © 2006 mrp / thepoetryman
(The Weaver's Song)