two poems for october

The moss that loves the stone

It is the moss that loves the stone

Most. No matter what or when, the

Moss somehow manages to stay

Even without a why, they say.

But the moss keeps on sticking

To the body of the stone that

Keeps its nonminding stiffness.

It is cold, it is hard, it is unfeeling

At all. It is the moss that keeps its

Love. It sticks with it, rain or shine.

It rolls with it. It stays with it even

In the desert, even it if means its

Own death. It is the moss that sticks

To the stone. It is its true lover.

In the river, the water has ordered

The moss to leave. It ordered the stone

To crush it. The moss cannot be

Removed. It covered the stone.

It is loving it whole.The stone has

Become the moss, and the stone

Is gone.

What is the cloud to the sun?

For what is the cloud to the sun,

It is nothing. The wind has always

Driven it away and the sun does not

Care. For want of love and care, the

Cloud plays with the fields and the

River and the sea. Impregnated it

Has conceived , and gives

Birth to the rain. The fields and the

Sea and the rivers feasted. The fields

Grow the grass and the flowers.

The sea and the rivers have

Seeded its waters with more fish.

The cloud does not like it. It has

Always dreamt of the sun but the

Wind has always blown it away.

At night the cloud talks to the moon.

And seeing the likeness of its light

To the sun that it loves, the cloud

Makes love with the shining moon.

It has given birth to the stars.

The following morning, the cloud

Is exhausted. It floats with the

Chastisements of the wind. There

Is no more direction. It still dreams

Of the sun. It dies and becomes

Taken as part of the wind. The

Cloud has become a white, clear

Sky. It is nothing. It is what you

See, when love is unrequited.