Organ

I‘ve heard it can love, again and again,
And nothing can detract from its vigour,
No matter the crush of failure and pain,
Or of the stress of life or its rigour.

I have heard (now know) of its strength unmeasured,
As it makes heroes rise and empires fall;
It can single you out to be untreasured;
Yet ables you to stand against it all.

It teaches you just to feel and not learn,
It gives you your self, yet takes you away,
It makes you happy and it makes you yearn,
It stays with you when it leads you astray.

Even when word and thought are unspoken
It hums its song even when it lies broken.

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Turn over and sleep.

For all the promises made,
And all declared vows to keep,
When need arises to prove –
Just turn over and sleep.

With all the blood that rushes
In to wounds that run so deep;
When hopeful chance comes to heal,
Just turn over and sleep.

As a heartache comes coursing,
Forcing one to lay and weep,
When gentlest words are needed –
Just turn over and sleep.

Maybe it is all karmic:
One sows in order to reap;
So, when harvest comes calling,
You must turn over and sleep.

The Trend.

I watched the waves.
They crashed into the rocks.
A done-to-death metaphor.

I saw the foam stick.
I saw the spray hit the air.
While you slept.
Blissful.
The trend of all lovers.
Once the passion is dead.

The sea will recede.
The rocks at least have faith.
The sea will return.

I walk back home.
To my side of the bed.
Sleepless and faithless.