Sleepwalking my day

In a yellow mood
the walls felt
beside the feather
of my heart,
making Love with Europe
in the Egyptian sun
with the enlightenment saviour
breaking bread and drinking a fine wine
the whispering of Mohamed’s angels
with the voice of Rumi
through the grapevine,
the grand spirits of the united states
sang with the voice of the native whale
again.

No more power structures of suffering
no more broken souls
in the chain gang,
having faith,
the acceptance of the dying pain
in the laughter of the eternal awakening,
when the infinite body becomes.

It’s a bloody Sunday no day for rest,
the opportunistic shepherd
tried to sell me some strange empty digital air.

Fish fly,
birds swim
and humans can bring in
a song from within.