A spot of light illuminated
This sheer window dressing
Just before dawn
And all that was awoken
By the golden energy
Lives on; though transformed
Now into a sheet of blue
As sun rises upon the sill
Of memory
And nothing remains of what
Was but snippets of images
That linger within this heart
Haunting daylight with vestiges
Of night
Tag: art
gentle words
Gentle words have no voice
When they linger within the
Echoes of darkness
Thoughts are but silent whispers
Floating upon a void
That wishes not for realization
Lost and spinning upon these
Ceaseless waves of nothing,
Turning around and around,
Until all that once held light
Falls exhausted into the same
Darkness with which it fought
To deny
Oh secret pain! This altar upon which
You pray gives such pause
What can come from the same
But more? And yet you linger here,
Comfortably, praying for day
ties transcending
i can hear your voice
floating upon the folds
of time
whispering words of love-
as your fingers sweep my
cheek; your lips my neck…
and my heart reaches through
the space between
to find your willing body
pressed against mine
as separation fades into
forgotten space-
thoughts touching,
hearts beating,
skin alive with the touch
of fate…
our souls bound
by ties transcending
sweet sanity
it’s a dull ache that sets
this heart apart from
the longing that dogs it so-
and what is longing, but realizations
of lost things, from long ago…
oh, how does the soul travel
so alone, through time,
just to find this ache,
a cold wind, only meant to blow?
and no recovery of love
will ever replace the hole
that lingers now upon
the edges of heart’s
sweet sanity;
lost to time, and this beating thought,
and the distant pain,
that coldly flows…
altar of love
fleeting whispers of ancient songs
floating within the vastness
of night
what is starlight without darkness,
but a lost song within a lagging
light
and what of this heart? sagging
upon the altar of love, lingering,
awaiting sacrifice
as sure as stars are not seen
but within the cradle of moon’s
sweet glow
i too, am lost to the heavens, without
golden’s soft flow
oh, to still this wretched heart, and give
my soul the peace it
would die for
as i linger here, waiting no more,
for your love to be returned to me
frustration
This heart, too open to be
Closed and too aching
To be heard
Lies prostrate among the flowers
Of my life, weeping
For change…
Soundless, countless waves of
Frustration wash over in
Gray and red and blue
Longing for that inexorable
Something that will enliven
And brighten
And free this heart to fly
Alas, imprisoned within my own
Design
I am but autumn flowers fading
Amidst the coming winter
longing from long ago
this longing is a fire in my
chest; beating, flowing, fiery
heat that will not cool
oh, why do you play me so?
my music… but bits of your soul…
as your fingers silently tune my
strings until my voice is a low moan
asking for more
you are my savior and my warden
and this heart is burning
and down low, within these loins,
the strings of love tenderly vibrate
as eternal echos of your touch
replace reality with
slow deliberate movements
sounding through time and space…
how i feel you now, upon my heart
wickedly licking the wounds your absence
left there long ago
Foothills of eternity
Oh, fragile heart
Yearning
Stretching towards
A completion
An annihilation
Of self into that which
Provides for more..
And though the darkness
Yet dwells within the corners
Of memories rooted
And left forgotten
To rotten and
Twist into folds of time,
The light of truth is a sword
That cuts down and out
All that no longer serves..
So grasping at the edge
Of a metal cliff
This heart reaches to
Combine the disparities
Into a bridge
That may grow wildflowers
Across the foothills of
Eternity
Train Whistles
The lack in me is but a distant
Echo of train whistles
Always promising to arrive
At my empty station to let
Off the passengers that might fill
My soul with something more
Than nothing
And yet my twisted fingers
That hold these wasted tickets
To nowhere grip my heart with
Longing for that which
Only lies singing in the distance
For nothing stops at a dead station
But more nothing
Silent desire
The slow run of summer has almost
Reached a finish
The heat is but a last stand
For impending cool…
Birds have abandoned nests
For a lack of need,
As squirrels scurry to find acorns
To chew….
And my heart; once a fiery ball
Of remembered pain
Is now changed by forgiveness
Into a colder harder better protected
Me
Will you still follow after a cooler flame?
Or leave this game of chance to a
Higher power?
My heart may be blue, but my head
Is aflame with silent desire
the SIBYL'S SONG 