it's coming from the sun

it’s fitting that I start from here 

the tale that I can’t tell 

just meditate and don’t relate 

you know the story well

 

 i’ll tell you what the prophet sees 

the things I can’t relate the thoughts you’ll twist into your toys the things you won’t debate

 it’s not what you expect you see that’s how we play the game we hesitate instead of flow as the world remains in change

 the greatest words I’ve written the wildest things I’ve said were sung by children half-asleep and wetting in their bed

 there is secret news I’m going to say it’s sleeping in your heart but take your time, it’s here with mine don’t leave before you start 

 it’s coming from the sun there’s nothing more than that the fire burns, heats the earth and here the poet sat while knock, knock, knocking the postman at the door brings coupons free, some for me and still I look for more 

 but there’s something that I’ve written the wildest thing I’ve read when world began in secret news the words some others said it’s not as you expect, you see that’s how the world does go we go about trying to learn instead of forgetting what we know

 while knock, knock, knocking the old man at the gate chases his hat, loves his cat and that’s more than he can take

 beyond the last tomorrow when the old man loses sight thoughts will rush like choir boys passing each by candle light 

 it’s coming from the sun 

  i can see it coming down 

what it is our words won’t say but there’s sure enough around

 it’s fitting that I say no more of the tale that I can’t tell 

after all, I’m only you, a poet too, as well