Prayer In The Sun

I am naive when facing the sun.

I lay down

and I pour the ocean(whole)

into a hole in the sand.

I know the wind is blowing but

happiness is beyond missing.

Please, leave and make things easier.

Leave, don't do it for the sake of the blues but

do it for yourself

or myself selfless gone and lost and buried and left astray empty-handed

heavy-handed

I hear a saint striving to utter the following words, behind his turbant:

"The air is beautiful."

The words are vague, easily unclean and flow directly into the thorns.

I had (or have) much to offer.

Do you care?

Fair enough.

I am a waste,

I run sadly,

I am blocking the sun with a finger.