1 Creation’s Soul
Who cares?
Death!
An impression of mythology.
Languishing in the midst of gods
allowing the grave a sense of life
deformed into a formation of hope.
I,
so many venues
seeking the solution
to what it’s all about,
waiting
the hardship of dreams
in the eyes not of me-
filtering.
Boring through the state of need
omnipresent of discord
cycling through the knowledge of function
feeling a surge of what’s not defined.
The colorless sky.
What is tomorrow?
And then I’m touched by a look
and death retreats to its corner
trusting the light of life.
And mythology becomes what it is,
a myth,
leaving dead gods buried in the infinity of their dreams.
Bestowing to us,
life’s daughter of birth
through the umbilical caring of love
welcomed forever-into creation’s soul.
2 Idyllic Hearts
Did you hear the whisper weeping
when at three the morning becomes
listening to tears among grieving hearts
as only with sorrow their waking will bring.
A sharing with life’s offering dusk
that grows decay with a silent remiss
a vestige of youth beyond idyllic hearts
that awaits new love from a season yet born.
3 Fete des Fous
Frozen grief in darken truths
leave stillborn words on frozen lips
fixed upon the duller stride
where the measured rule must comply.
Leaving remnants of a muffled tone
a misused view of what was said
drifting through a fated breath
of tinted clouds in an interlude,
4 Pleasing
The willows soft in tresses
drink the morning dew
where lovers wake unto the light
and praise the lushes view.
That beautifies the common fare
in honeysuckle rows
that on a southerly breeze perfumes the day
with its pleasing nectar scent.
5 A Moment
A sweet cat.
A warm breeze.
And you-
a summer print
dressed in honeysuckle lushness.
6 Avenues of Light
Your hair dressed in ringlets
softly washed in light-
from embers dying glow
brings a pleasure to the room.
The avenue of light
is diffused through many views
delighting the ambiance
as the morning touches you.
7 Seed of Life
Plenty are the songs of life
none the greater than the least
each from the marrow that gave it birth
each the fruit from where it came.
No cloud can be without its vapor
an essence from that ever was
no matter the existence of its type
all a passing in the wind.
Eyelids and water together as one
forming a union in their universal verse
working the imprints from a rhythm past
into our now and life’s future seed.
8 You, I, and a cat named Iris
Five billion years,
you, me,
a purr,
and the wonder of it all.
What was the chance?
us, iris together, as one,
in an afternoon sun?
Now shadowing our lives with the missing of her,
as Iris passed in her eighteenth year,
lying beside the blooming banks,
still fresh with the mating of the echoing May.
Beauty, and sadness with the darkness and light,
sunshine and mist in duality of each,
where the parting was somber infused with her sweetness,
life in its nature and the continuous time.
Now never to touch from a distant too far,
only a closeness from a memory that is,
where moments of missing on a cross over bank,
forever will keep the love that we shared.
Too live without love is a darkness of verse,
a purposeless living no meaning to joy,
leaving only a sigh to comforts the heart,
as many await in cages and pens.
9 Beauty’s Fare
What’s left to speak my dearest fair?
A creation rich in beauty’s eye.
A gift of looks to pleasure born,
touching light with its enduring grace.
Repeating the truth of the mirror’s embrace
shunning the image not in its realm
veiled in a cradle of a shadowed reflection
unable to free the truth from its birth.
Beauty’s fare uplifts the fair.
A rhyme in voice that always will rise
above the distraction of what its not
washing their ashes in an uncaring silence.
Life’s story of vanity and frost alike
an unabridged message to be never unsealed
as the luck of the genes has no key to unlock
slumbering their beauty in the sorrow of grief
unlike the beauty of them always sublime in their light
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