We road
Faithfully
By way untold,
A story
Forgotten
As it is known,
A journey
Sacred
As it is old.
Whereto we pressed
My aged bones,
Our tongues dressed
In silence alone?
Tag: Spirituality
All that has left
All that has left
So silently,
Wanders among weeds,
Savors sweat as wine
And carnal company…
What of the eastern sun
Which never sets?
What of the whispered tongue
Upon a lovers lips?
All that has left,
Parted with the wind,
And the warmth beneath
The dearest wing.
Sing…
Sing…
Sing…
What of the eastern sun
Which never sets?
What of the whispered tongue
Upon a lovers lips?
I know love
Lets no wicked rest.
And I know grace
Weighs heavy
Upon my chest.
a walk
In the alleys of solitude,
Wondering selves
Exchange wine.
And in a gust
Of autumn leaves,
I hoped to find
Your eyes
Among
The evening lights.
Like the smoke that slips
Through a window
Of an aged apartment,
Let me be
The afterthought
Of a marooned soul.
passing thoughts
Yet I find you
as dangling dew,
splitting the sun,
endlessly,
in my eyes.
It is your hand
i want to hold
through the garden
of nightmares,
and through
the ruins of day.
…your footsteps,
falling,
breathlessly,
are a melody
to my soul,
burning me,
with life.
thoughts…
I could not speak,
So I dipped my soul in ink.
I could not feel,
So I hunted throughout
The land of music.
I could not see,
So I prayed
Within the deepest temples
Of Gods gardens.
Like so I listened
To my rose,
From a thousand miles away.
A moment passed
The wind I had felt was by no mistake,
Yet you lay on me, as a rose petal
Would drift down the Tigris night
Upon milky waters,
Between the forgotten seasons;
Where the spirit is intoxicated in divine limbo.
And I beg the sun to lose my self through the sky,
A thousand droplets, a thousand prayers,
A thousand pages, a thousand doves
To keep you aloft?
This is how I blushed upon your cheek
Naked before the world.
Between the banks of an ancient Song,
Where poets lost themselves,
She drowned in me.
Now I rage, rage against time,
To carve a canyon where humanity will
Lose itself!
How will you shout
Through my encompassing emptiness?
Match my dust with tears and prove me wrong!
Oh to be once again
A seam in the sand…
At the mercy of morning dew.
Shout and sing from the depths
Of my empty tomb.
Only a stranger can feel
And call upon this past to ruin.
How many generations do I call forth?
How many will then dig for truth?
“Our depth is a shallow
In the seas of being
The iris of existence.
Our ideas…
Warmth and cold.
Oil pastels…
Upon the pupil.”
Forward
My elegy births a war
Though it conceived
An idea of hope.
And we wondered,
‘What was beautiful?’ ,
Growing through the loom
Of a departed life.
What was beautiful?
It was hope,
To be free of wants
And profits of our souls.
The Adult and Child
Your inner child speaks to me
From a time we’ll never know,
From a far away moment
Let from a God’s stolen bow.
From a time we’ll never know,
From a far away moment
Let from a God’s stolen bow.
“…Collapse with me
Beyond films of certainty.
There is nothing to forget,
Oh the moments not yet met!”
Beyond films of certainty.
There is nothing to forget,
Oh the moments not yet met!”
—
“Let us go where we haven’t been,
Somewhere not alone.
And far is a lovely place.
Somewhere not alone.
And far is a lovely place.
…a place between far and home.”
To my sister
You are a temple for lost souls,
Who seek not scripture but rest.
For your doors are never closed
And spring runs childishly about.
And when the harsh winds of winter
Come bellowing from the North,
They are tempered in their shame,
Settling in their youth, beneath your eyes.
Life will not find your secret,
As she is blind to her self.
Though time will remember your refuge,
And forever find you, his rest.
ahorsealone 
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