Iconoclast
I look out the morning window
The sun taking its time to rise
Orange and amber everywhere
Stillness in the skies
And yet
I see the wind chimes moving, drifting
A pendulum of dancing glass and light
They show a stirring of the wind
They show an ending of the night
And yet
In this box of paint and glass
I feel not a thing, sense only sight
Yet no experience, no heart felt stirring
Only a hunger to know the more, no more night
So I step outside
Wind touches every facet of my skin
My life, my love they begin again
Inside the shadow of the hummingbird does fall
But outside I hear his wings, his call
I breathe in the air
I feel the stirring
I know the sunlight
I hear the whirring
I am truly alive
