A Poem by Coyote Poetry
Poetry for the book I am writing, The island.
We shall know never-more,
we shall know ever-more and we one day.
We shall know nothing more.
Once wise writer told us.
Death, is when we become forgotten.
Once brave man danced with death on his left shoulder.
Death whispered to him and
he went to war to die.
The caretaker whispered death is sweet, life is harder, death is sweet.
Took dear Idyllic to teach him.
We are not done till the essence of hope is dead.
Once he saw three goddesses dancing by Lake Superior with the loving moon above,
their night song.
I listen well and I saw light in the darkness.
Celestial ladies made him believe.
If we can dance with the Lake, sing songs to the moon and the stars.
We still have the fire of life in our belly.
We ain’t dead yet, we are not done yet.
On a blessed night,
I danced with moon,
I danced with kindness and I danced with life.
Once upon a time, a stranger found his salvation on the mystic Island of Idyllic.
Salvation for a time and dear Luna whispered to him.
When you are done and you did your best.
After you wrote your last story and poem.
The ambrosia wine, the island and our utopia is here for you.
You can find her when your journey is done.