I am the Lion in Paris

I am the lion in Paris

watching life

flow by like a stream,

their dancing spirits vibrate

the atmosphere

and disregard

my questing eyes.

I am the lion of all seasons

and I sink beneath the weight

of time,

I long for the open fields

of spring tides

and the warmth of honeyed sunshine

I am the lion of nature . . .

granite is so cold and hard,

the call of the wind

flows through my mane

and removes me

piece by piece

I am the stone in Paris

refined by moving streams of time

I am earth and wind and fire

and I dream I am

a blazing star . . . 

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