LAMENTATIONS

On certain stoic mornings

the dull orange sun rises mysteriously.  Naked

it creeps awkwardly, almost ashamed;

hidden behind somber gray clouds.

Working incessantly on quiet miracles.

   For God

        Dwells in your dreams

Perfect morning light dissolves, sheepishly;

Funky expressions of its own inalienable freedom,

clinging to the fashions of sugary winds.

There are echoes of its endless guilt

harbored in the footprints of its weary soul.

   For God

        Dwells in your tears

In the darkest embarrassment of the night,

there is a nervous yellow moon.  Chilling.

Obscuring the tears of the deep flickering stars.

Desire floats passionately in the heavy stillness,

timidly, it fosters distant shrouded conclusions.

   For God

        Dwells in your heart