Sweet One

Sweet dreams and wake refreshed and closer to your essence . gather the love that hovers within your sight
and little stones that call your name.
Keep the earth quenched and the sky full of trees ,
always walk as if your flying
and stop near vast expanses of moving waters .
Take a seldom sit under a dreaming tree
and wait till night becomes from day, absorb each star in the night
and dream another earth as she listens to your heart beat .
For she exhales with you to the stars
and beckons this twilight breeze, a kindred wish.
Sweet one ~ sweet dreams and rest under the tree of life .

10 – 30 – 14

Midsummer Night

 

Opaline evening, under an infinite sigh. Selene goddess spills her spell, flowing serene dusting of luminescence. when under her still heart, this body lifts, pulled by her wish, then surrenders beside her silence. Murmur silent, murmurs beckoning this midsummer nights dream.

A memory bleeds an invisible colour, a ribbon yards long, changing like chameleon scales a memory of hues. These fingers laced in another’s fingers, hands hold a slender pole clearly carved, stream of ribbon tied upon the tip held together. We are waving this vast stream ribboning night, creates a strumming, mellow like lips held together, a ripple of a deep whistle.

Then return under an infinite sigh of nocturnal moon, spills her spell, such a serene opaline lucent space between. it is the nocturnal hawk that weaves this night,a crespucular murmur strums unseen, inviting pouring full this spell. A colourful ribbon woven through moonlight.
For when under her glowing disk, this body pulled skyward. Moon goddess becoming, full murmur silent, murmur whispering this midsummer nights dream. For tomorrow will be longer in daylight waiting for evening, surrendering below an opaline moon.

6 – 21 – 2013.                                       image

 

 

 

 

 

Cage of a Moonless night

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           Only period of a day on earth which frees a soul,
 stimulated under a moonless purple sky.
           From all corners of being or should I say the curves of a face,
 the vesper of a cooler breeze letting you know you’re inhabiting a body.
          Although always the eyes,
 a crease furrows down the face keeping a pulse.
          It is so quiet, a nonhuman stillness,
 one that unlocks the prison of a scorching day.
          Even is even as day flatlines to an evening which frees a soul.
 It is upon your eyes, within this sepal opening voiceless,
 here tiny motes of light dance.
          Always the eyes, always the earth,                                                                                                                        always are we caught in these cycles,                                                                                                                        beholding the sky of stars under a moonless evening.                                                                                                             Wish making in the falling stars in your eyes.

8 – 16 – 14 

 

Were we uncommon

Are you watching the stars.
Are you under the covers warm with the light that bends around this earth.
Which touches the disk in the sky, called by many names through the earliest of eyes, which gazed then bathed their cool body under a river of a silver sliver of opalescent moon.

Taken; you lay, held wordless as this crescent grew to a fullness,  then hungrily waning away, a thirst to follow a rhythm of changes.

Are you watching the stars. Forever never changes, an orb that becomes change. Consistent desired primal and true. Carnal peace a stone that fits upon the body flows .
Phosphor light filling a rhythm.
Were not for the winged iridescent curious creatures born absorbed with the celestial colour.                                           Were this not my body that painted from a moons glow, were this not a memory, where from a wind carried thought through an evenings vesper.

Would not my piece of being fit so well into your wish so perfectly. That we would be as once, no one living today uncommonly remembers .

10 – 9 – 13

Light is wordless

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

image       ~ 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.

2 – 18 – 14

Harmony

Harmony

This is all in our memories
our bodies mutable and real
Coax it out of me
call the stars settling their dust upon this earth
To be melded with our flesh there,
many memories are blended
Cocoon, our seed dormant
till evocation of two meet
Pluck a cosmic harmonic
just as simple, being in our bodies
vibrating as one within earth
Rekindle the old ways
Kindred with a distant star
kindred in a whisper
kindred in the wind
Within this spin of earth
lucid a thought, where distance becomes constellations
here beside both places at once
map of memory pulled within another
go to that secret place, where
a thousand stars hold you upon their sand
adorned cocoon coaxed from sleep

7 – 29 – 2014image

Quench

Quench ~

             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.

          11 – 21 – 13

 

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