Part 1:
FOUNTAIN OF LIFE
Hummingbirds in circles of praise,
Of the one, fountain of life.
Right above the mysterious dust in air
When light slept,
And the moon left.
Darkened black hovered like tinted glass.
He lumbered from the sky.
Down the cheeks of our hearts.
Like a tree planted on fertilized dust,
We grew and grew on the palm of chronophobia.
A life was carved on a bird’s tablet.
No more shall we play as rain.
No more, no more a dated lie,
That we rumbled from afar, afar off the sky.
And settled on dust of mother earth,
Beneath the dreaded hot moon and scorching son-light.
With strings of life tied on our necks, death.
Shall we a bird of life, provoke the fountain?
From whence we are made a mountain.
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