Another kindred spirit
has returned to the fold
running on the wind of flight
wrapped in gusts of light
on wings of second sight
the pen
bold in battle
stands
and slays
the ego of man

what is left
is rounded and rooted
sweet like almond trees
and humming
the small sweet nothings
of somethings
in the ear

we drop the pen
for you
and color
the page
celestial
sink our feet
deep beneath your
lost thoughts
that crumble
between our toes

I will yearn for your

earthly, heavenly,
humanly
beautiful

explosion
of eloquence

your imagination
still
sows
fresh thoughts
in used minds