Train horn deeply awakes this evening,
this mind theaters like a picture book,
inside pictures roll slowly reeling, turn like a toy kaleidoscope.
Bare tones root tendrils deep, while an evening is
rising to the audience of stars.
There is a creamy smoothness around.
along side my moon shadow stirs,
silently and kindred is love, this dark aroma of night.
I saw pictures curve from a bend of a page,
inside frozen for a second and captured forever,
there the jaguar caught pacing inside a cage.
Three pelicans remembered by the shore
waiting for a California rain.
It is this moonlight stillness waxing shadow,
Opening a pouch, seeing contents spill from fingertips, to earth thankful that each flake glistens,
We are touched by the light of the moon.
A breath of smoke drifts always upward,
like the mirror of a rock wiggling through the shallow water finding bottom.
Somewhere between a surface reflecting.
And now a memory of the train horn
stretching like this milky moonlight,
under a dome of stars.
Have you ever collected the surface of water into your palms ? Held cupped while droplets fall strobing inside sunlight streaming though this canopy of trees.
Light and shadow, your thirst filled reflection rippling.
Were centuries held in this liquid memory bringing this moment?
Was this Sun caught inside the bowl of your hands with the glint from each water droplet sounding to earth.
Was it curiosity that landed upon Mars finding an ancient stream bed holding stones smoothed?
Or the deep reflection inside your round coffee cup waking the jaguar inside your obsidian reflection of your emerald eyes being lifted to your lips.
May be as another dream your mind cupped ,
lapping beside the shore as another anima of memory .
Gazing into the future ten thousand years ago .
Watching giant clouds move across the surface of a larger pool,
herds of creamy colours migration slowly setting a stillness of pace.
She quenches her thirst surrounded in reflection,
a canopy of nature as thoughts long ago, never spoken .
She purrs contentment filling deeply a memory,
a glimmer opens upon a ripple ,
of a familiar beasts reflection inside an obsidian bowl.
Dreaming inside a canopy strange.
Wishing you a restful sleep full of dreams
walking on this beach looking to our side
here watching colourful birds fly to the top of the golden pyramids while we count moons reflecting, upon the tides sweep to the shore.
Another earth around our red disk, when sets a night full of stars then awakens reflections that ripple ashore
for we know our walk along this shore
the song of awakening this hush of nightfall.
And the I, between of being human.
Wishing you a restful dream as night closes her golden breath
connecting the points we have arranged
stars casting patterns, this anima of being
we know tonight why the night bird sings.
Are you gazing at the stars.
I went outside, this feeling with another, a vault of stars, scrying into a bestirring pool. refreshing call dispels chatter which humans undo beauty.
Refreshed to listening
pulse of night swaying waver – ring strummed, sung to stars infinite high.
breathing beside another, exhales lift to irresistible stars .
I travel round then round till tonights stars call my body outside.
these stars were once the day stars covered by light above the clouds meander,
seeking the other side of twilight earth.
Australian night stars dream of polar stars unseen.
slow turning earth beside another sun sets this dreamtime sailing a rhythmic movement .
it is just the tilting of earth, that pace this sun coming up.
Then likewise down upon horizontal landmarks
take my hand and grow old with mine in this linear time
Stars are forever with moon glowing through centuries.
Stones that shimmer into our atmosphere, delivering wakes of colour,
rippling this short life. Indicating a point in time,
past rhythms come to startle a dream, awaking another reality.
Another body, gazing another sky filled pallet of colouring stars
take my hand
fold this ripple timeless under the stars .
Earth tilts the skirt of sky
very becoming rotation
set with planet jewels in motion upon this hem of horizon
Twilight waltz, spun senses behold a turning gait
she waxes a change, a future harvest moon
revealing swoon fills upon the breast of sky
your patient tide strolls, gliding touch to an emblazoned night
her skirt entices a memory aquamarine blushing rhythmically
At the center of sky daylight paints away
Moon becomes her own memory
sapphires wink gems of stars, as always, always you take her timeless
earth begins enfolding softly the skirt of sky, to a season of seed
Dance upon this evening sky
holding her vesper chant, her curves becoming full
her hint of Fall whispering
when moon remembers this tilting dance
of earths longing hold
released ever so slowly
from the long dance of summer
Light is like shadow
Night is like day
Moon glows on a dark star sky
Where the sun cast a shadow
Defining the curve of her body
Moon bathes light into this night
Light is like day , as night is the crescent moon filling
~ Light is wordless ~
Light has a stillness, a quiet never listened to. Even behind its touch upon the trees quietly, concentric ripples of rings unseen, if only someone could read these pattern of shadows. Even then the quiet goes undisturbed. May be this stillness captures the ebb, a faraway memory of a season past fresh, a different hill top, a memory similar when light spoke with a golden glint. Upon finding under a majestic piñon droplets of fragrant amber sticky with a curious bug incased.
Light is this kind stillness, warm between when touched, wordless light rides layers carried on a breeze from a far away ocean salty, meeting with a warmer breeze may be from a canyon filled with date palms, blending a cool and warm taste across your cheek.
Light touches everything, wordless because light has always been here. Shadow likes light. Night can be light when moon glows under a darker starry sky. Wordless, no time but the playfulness of light and shadow has a stillness seldom listened to.
I like the sound that quenching sings. where sound touches in a wordless world, quenching a soul breathless. I like that soundless tactile of drying sand shifting through fingers, while a sun sets quenches the sightless horizon. Like the way a wave quenches the grains of a dry beach yet again.
Quenched sands glimmer a hand of stars between fingers pause. Quenching slow rains strobe a way, where memory was found misplaced, once upon a sleeping city listens to the oceans subtle roar. And the pearl of a midnight sky pulses from lightning, a stillness beneath.
Yet between, binds earth, the chorus of aural creatures, filling quiet undulation,
quivers a nests beneath this pearl in a midnight sky.
Your senses unraveled from human time, quenching sunrise. Far stars colouring what remains of this night. Seems this scent of yesterday, this voice of stillness, this wondering, this lucidity whetting this changing your body this between always between.
Imagining a world with one moon. A very becoming stand upon grasses moist, changes moisten your stroll, waiting evaporates within always within. Senses unravel human time. Tallish grassy field aspire, an animated spin ever slowly with breeze honing a warming of still sky. Moist fruit of dew ripens finding gravity evaporating to the last twinkling of stars.
Night pulls apart ever so slowly to sleep in a coming day. Birds voice glistened from an evening under the stars lift a dream to their pastel sky. Listen to your unraveling into another human time, listen to your heart beat, seems the night brought the voice of stillness to this place. Always under a phase of the moon, while earth awaits your memory, changing this body you release your music.