Orpheus

Emboldened in cold reflection,
The mind takes its wings,
Lent from the altar of dreams.
Mine, mine, it says
And I am to win.
There is no other.

That dream, I built-mine,
The people left behind, mine,
The forbidden luck emptied, mine,
The time, which kneels for me to plead.

The fake sun crumples, emptied
Of the pride it kept from us.
It becomes real, for once-
A place of sworn, forgotten foothold.

May It Be

Find me in the summer's end,
When dreams have had their fill,
Eating at the irony- long
Abandoned by my will.

When time is bitter, lost to chance,
(Silent parley, so it fell)
That I should still be me,
And still you know me well.

Hold me like it's sunset
And little shall we know,
How moments aim to spare,
And miss to overflow.

Zebra's Fray

I found someone, strange to me,
Who found this world unraveling.
You see the stripes, she said to me,
Black, white, or just traveling?

One knot to another, they walk
A tightrope, just the same.
Each other's dreams, they stalk
A worn, beaten frame.

Wno knows where it began,
When life fell black on white,
And turning it around
Meant turning from the light!

Knowing

This be a slice of reality,
A sheet of paper fallen, conveniently,
Away from the empty weight
(On which this love affair began).

Feigning silence, architects?
They dance around a universe created,
Projected, calculated, desecrated,
At last, dejected- a shrine.

One slice, just one, and
I am far from here, leaning
Far past the breadth of life, daring
To fold, peel this sheer leaf- anew.

One Melody

Come a partridge in the night,
Singing low, soft without menace,
Searching
In the blessings it brings.

Rarely does this come uncursed,
Truly heard and understood; yet
The notes do weave together,
Driven together by the deluge of light.

We all sleep, troubled souls unthinking
Of the miracles that push forth each day.

The sweet bird sings not of silence,
The new day that no one has met,
But of the shining grace
Conducting all fates together.

All to one.

Magnolia Tree (IV)

Shadows bathe, low and warm
Harmonies to the shy new light.
Leaves droop, but behold revelry-
They are a garish, fluttering green.

Such is the rare moment, reservation-
Nature's finest face in modest veils,
Pale peculiar pearls of creamy sheen-
Carved, exquisitely layered,
In thick chains of light and shadow.

Like a garment well made, it lasts-
Four seasons, still a fresh sensation.
Simply, the spotlight quickens elsewhere,
An audience still unsought.

If He Sleeps Soundly Tonight

If he sleeps soundly tonight, then
I'll taste the pink coral winds,
Rushed through unprepared morn,
While they still brew behind their canvas.

If he sleeps soundly tonight,
I'll close my eyes, feel phantom roses
Grace glass lips ajar, an empty scent bouquet.
It awaits, the single bloom
That spring did not touch.

If he sleeps soundly tonight, then
I may forever paint him in good grace;
Another, born of the same batch,
Yet I see my champion.