I listen to elated birds of passion above
Old weeping trees
Shade from judging clouds and spying leaves

I listen to red winged wood peckers
Tap
Tap
Taping
Their gavels
They echo with conviction
They echo with benediction
They echo

I listen to nimble oak leaves singing harmony
With a jazz cool breeze
That surrounds my rock stalk body
And vibrates me completely
Playing my follicles like strings
And my nails like church bells ring
It plays me, a blind man
Hiding my head in the cold dark sand
Reaching out an empty begging hand

I listen to wild waters running
Tossing and turning
The sleepless are stunning
Dreaming of seasons for saints
And answers for questions
That are finger paint
On the minds of children
Pigment is fading but
Memories of vibrancy are steadfast and staying

I listen
To what he has to say
To what she has to say
And that man in the corner?
I listen to him too

I suppose
Let the symposium begin
A séance to awaken
Those old ideas
With a new spin
Let your heart open
And let inspiration plant a seed within

May it explode from your chest
Into a blossom
An ocean of blazing orchids
Let it cover your body like ivy
Wear your passions on your sleeve
Make statements on doors
With knocked dents
Follow your path to enlightenment <--- (Working on the last lines still)

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