The Wishing Hour
It is speechless gear.
It is the quiet of the very eyes.
It is forgetting to forget.
It is laughing.
Really, really laughing.
It is the moment you arise to the guiltless past,
Swim through the gray current,
And come ashore...
To find your heart.
You caress it like soft, warm gold,
And as it spreads into veins
And becomes a kingdom
You find a pain like sticks
Slipping again through a current
Washing ashore...
And find your heart.
The heart is your way home
And the home drifts like the wishing hour.
The wishing hour makes joy beam life light.
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