Muse In Shaking Lips

Sipping slow and deep from a steaming cup of lemoned tea that keeps his rubbery hands steady, His ever-meshing throat clears and his shaking lips utter agedly... "Son, a man is as he speaks to his groin. You are the red staining my now limping heart, You are the blood running in my now rusting veins, You are the tomorrow of my now sore marrow. Go forth to comb the forests of adulthood, Find that trunk of age on whose ab raise your ark. Never look too far, there is no such thing as greener pastures, Gold mines are everywhere and every day is the mining season; But be wise not dig too far in the wrong places. Always remember that every time you shoot at the moon, Expect back a silver bullet…always remember; Go on little one, live youth to see your days of age. There’s a deficit of words that shape the world, When the soul is emptied into words, The world is rich with beautiful poems; Write your ode, son of the sun and sing your song. Should they ask you of where you come from, tell them... --- A two-shelled tortoise sows her seed on rock. 20/08/17 Copyright © All Rights Reserved