The Jangle of My Keys

The jangle of my keys makes a desperate plea to drain
from my jostled body the sorrow that holds me prisoner.

The serene wind blows through my cotton hair,
while creating incremental rhythms against the sluggish ocean
for cosmic children who gather on the loving shore.

They use their manic fingers to rake the laughing sands
into their feverish buckets and create mystical kingdoms
derived from their own ancient minds.

For the eyes to see such glory as the fierce towers of a princess
behold the ways of passion and that devour a heart so boldly, 
with the way their souls weave together and their lips
embrace like flames emerging from ravaging hailstones
that strike the heaving rooftops, makes my heart wilt.

They roar into the sugary sky, crashing through heaven's gates.
But kismet is the wine that feeds the agony of my bleeding spirit,
for he who fell into the arms of another
whose sultry voice called out to him.

Lord, why am I imperiled by this thirst for his glory?
I too am of blue velvet.
Is he too blind to see me for what I truly am?
 

The fabric that encases his eyes are his own illusions
that lead his heart off course.
For he is the one who is enticed by the vileness
of her seductive tongue.

There is a fire creeping up on me,
with its smug demeanor.
Can it be that by your grace, I too may find some peace?
If only I could be relieved of this song that plagues my visions
of stealth unfair, and strip time of its waiver to follow your voice
into your Kingdom where I may be redeemed of all my sight.