Think of the man who prays before he eats,
And I'll think of the steps to a dance on the floor at the ball,
Blessed in beauty by unconscious repeat,
Self-ordained in rythm like a cowbell call,
I saw the summer approaching through the holes in the collonaide,
I saw the sun light turn my shaddow into shade.
Think of the grass that predicts the rain as it's combed by the wind,
I don't want to feel a kiss that predicts her departure again,
She falls like rain that traces the tops of your skin,
As she followed her lips from the curve in my wrist to my hand,
And I touched her back where she didn't know she was,
And she arched in the sun for no reason but because.
Think of all that is broken and all that is yet to break,
All of the revolutions it is needed for all of the turns it will take,
every intercourse has stood and so soon will stand at stake,
So I completed her lips with a kiss with my hands to her face,
And the mountain is in the same place as the deer,
And her beauty lies nowhere else but here.
So I found the corner where the dancing was annulled,
Where my steps were determined by nothing but my heart's beat,
Every man-made engine that burns for wheels that roll,
In the thinning of air breaks down from its own heat,
I am unravelled at every fold,
Like the wind that was once a tornado.
