spazteca

Blossoms burning from cigarette cherries
glimmering lights of branch bouqeuts
essence eternal of fistful hairs
dredging roots, spines, arms
peace of turmoil
seeking despair in longheld embraces
from sand a whisper of age erodes
decay of beautiful days

Knowing what I am
is as worth of
what I plan is feeling
where I have come
tonight; stars explode
with no lack of being
it is discerned
what we know little
of what to become
but forthright marching
makes the better of us
keep eyes forward-
eternally remain
by ceasing
to lament