Let the universe lend her ears to my knees,
Let not my crooked streets be in vain,
Let our song carry us in the heat.
Carry rock.
Carry on.
Carry children.
Carry our wilderness.
Carry Wasteland.
Carry me.
So if you ask me why I pray.
What more shall I do
But carry it, on my knees.
By a thousand marigolds that do not toil.
Tread lightly,
Overwhelmed , Over-coiled
Burned in my right palm
A sensuous bleeding
To be born
To weep
To groom
To love
Let the universe lend her ears to my knees
Let not my crooked streets be in vain
A Poet's Vision 
Bridge as a tunnel or following the underside.
LikeLike
I saw it as a tunnel giving off light. Let me know what you think…. Happy weekend to you.
LikeLike
Fine posts. nice blog .. Congratulations. … Welcome to see my creations: http://www.paintdigi.WordPress.com
LikeLiked by 1 person
thank you kindly Paintdigi
LikeLike
You’r welcome 🍁
LikeLiked by 1 person
‘a thousand marigolds that do not toil’
It sounds like a biblical reference.
Beautiful poem!
LikeLiked by 1 person
indeed it is thank you kindly always Robert M. Goldstein Happy weekend to you with care krissy 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
a deep poem..thanks for this poem
LikeLiked by 1 person
more than welcome, my pleasure glad you liked it Happy Sunday here 😉
LikeLike