I touched the moon last night; a golden glow beyond my grasp. Eons before me it rested there. It will remain when I am dust. My hand now glows from the embrace. Voices echo through nights past, and with the glow, caress my face. My finger faints from...
I walk the sand alone, and feel it stirring as I roam, upon this breathing earth, where wave on wave begins new birth. I sense a grand facade, where colors paint the hand of God. And in remorseful pain, I dance the stones of bitter strain.
The winged beasts and angels know, that mortals cannot fly. But how I flew to see the sun; a broken bird am I.
I roamed alone; O, barren dreams. My echoed voice, what lonely comfort. Here is my salvation: I hear the triumph drum; the rhythm of the rising, the long-awaited sun.
Deep blackness waits outside; a veiled inferno it attempts to hide. We see no more than dark clouds growing, but set inside, a fire is glowing.
Then, as a single snowflake flares and flickers upon voicing its final breath, so two eyes make silent conversation with mine. A face as iridescent as candle-fire purls verse and poetry. My eyes read her every intent as a wave of recollections floods...
Wander with intent into a garden glorious. Walk with double brisk upon edenic paths. Flee the cursing fear that lights upon your eye. Seize the twisted dream that strangles earth and sky.
Peace is not found in the sea. It is found when I dream of eternity.
But with what wonder has the season come? Its treasure lies in earthen ships, that carry dreams across the foam. And how your memory of Sarah rapes the fleshly heart that once bore scenes, now veiled in smoky stains of tears; it cries as on its crutc...
If only I had feathered wings, that could bend and curve and reach, beyond imagined dreams, unhindered by the weight of earth.
I long to drift through turquoise skies; race the wind in rampant flight. Ruddy chains have framed my eyes, they seize my heart and stain the light.
This morning I breathe iced air, and wander toward the waves. For a moment I live without care; a moment all my heart craves.
O, the sorrow of us all, to wander the earth in a shell. And looking to the heavens, we lay to rest in hell. The suffering of the innocent in the midst of Jacob’s well. How the miles fled between us, and that distance is still great. Though on the ...
To your simple existence, do not boast; merely to breathe or move or think is not to live. The shore of the sea is but a ghost, compared to the depth its wholeness gives. You exist in the miry foam; make the ocean depths your home.
Golden bars make no less a prison than a coffin on a hill. And in caged reformation, one wanders aimless still. The rafters now a recollection of sacred suppression. How the morning dawn strikes mourning confession. Now Death yields a harvest of the ...
Some say the ocean roars, I hear it ever weeping. Weep, ocean, weep for those gone before. Weep, O sea, for the open graves that fill your shore.
I am a waning bird encased in a glass sphere; I cannot see my prison, and my cries no one can hear.
In freedom you form in utter disgrace, the bars of my prison this night. While you drift on currents of seraphim heights, it is I who deserve to take flight.
A pebble thrown in a pool may ripple from end to end, but tossed into the sea, it is swallowed by enormity.
