There is no good night.
below a moon that is hidden by the horizon.
there was a shadow near, spilled from this quarter moon
uncurling her crescent bowl filling evening cool within a selene glow, suspended slow motion of every passing star cluster.
There must be names, none living today can place into words.
No voices to speak this past, memory will cast moons light,
shadows animate minds spellbound upon this earthly shore,
this bowl of a quarter moon, fashioned from opaline materials of earth.
Vespertine dews filled this bowl, an microcosm ancient symbol of earth etched then blended upon the bowl holding a moon
of liquid rippling the mirroring stars reflecting into the half moon cupped in your palms.
Mercurial the waxing crescent that cast light into shadow,
gesture of infinity quenches a thirst as earth tilts the bowl.
moon dresses the horizon, sewn lapis sky pinned beside her tinted rim.
here dreams sleep, stitch of shadows swirls round,
memories liquid as clouds.
horsetails clouds that circle a stirring sky
held timeless entranced upon the bowl of a quarter moon
becoming the gazer that wonders.
There is no good night to the sleepless.
here only night and day play a lullaby
with a moon setting vespertine shadow of dreams.
For if we sleep :
convince our souls to fall and rise deeply inside this bowl of the moon . beauty will ride a winged horse spurred from the wisps
of twilight clouds, gathering dreamers to ride to the milky way.
There is no word for good night.
just a lullaby of anima nocturnal.
a bowl turned from earthly stone,
filled with a moon cycles of dew.
hands cupped warming upon a surface of stars.
for theres no sleep for the dreamer.
I’ve pondered the similar
like the wave that not yet breaks
the same as the ones before
is a wave that washes ashore.
your body like lips opening ripeness
sweet fruit of winters wind
coolness immerses slowly whiling a memory quiet, Continue reading →
Remains of this day, this evening an inner warmth, beside such crystalline shimmering stars . While breaths exhale bubbles of a thought taken by a chilly breeze. A whisper of a story added once again to be held withing earths being. Moon just comes milky seeding evening east glow. Mars, oh mars a dolphin to the ship of the moon, together sky the western side of night stream. Somewhere inside my memory of today I watched clouds holding the aqua blue sky hostage, a peaceful direction, a trickle – spilled milk frozen forever in my moments gaze.
Some times I hear a voice that sends me away to another reality. But later find my way back to the sky. Clean there are cleaning the sky this mind becomes painted a picture in the moment. Cleaning the sky thoughtless till now I try to recall what bound me like a spell.
The spelling of beauty. This dormant place we wander, a way trailing words together. treasured in a forgotten wooden box, tucked away, recall from mind into letters, there were butterflies talking, a pattern new wolf spider tracing what the clouds were doing, her glisten of silk a line closer.
But it became the evenings trunk of the giant oak, that leans upward to the stars. That whispered my mind, to how they hold the stars into earth.