Please Just Let Me Be

Rolling fruit down paths of stone
to waters seasoned true-
Where fields of warmth
and blankets green, caress the sticky skins.

In pages torn and scattered-
blowing through the dream
with words upon the wind's disease
and pastel shyness trees.

I'm falling with the mushroom caps-
that cover time before.
I fumble for the opening
to silence and the same.

To sterile glass and unfought wars
to wounds of healing due.
Crawling through the thickness-
of days in darkness worn.

To simple streets in simple times-
to sands of weightless free.
Reaching, screaming empty cries
please just let me be.