the way of it

so funny
i got used to you
so quickly
and now i don’t even
think of you twenty
times
a day
i just float on you
knowing you are there
accepting
too readily
perhaps.
i can move past
you now
did you know?
on to others calling
to me from
impossible heights
across distance and time
ignoring their
own deaths
to touch me
with glorious madness
and love
not like yours
but not different
still i float
on you
wrap myself in you
on this cold, cold night
of howling wind
i know you won’t mind
the others love
but not like you
you are fire
they are air
you are water
giver of life
they are the muse
the passion
of mind.
ancient cards told
me to combine
my separate selves
for you
but you’ll think
me crazy when
you see how it is
with me
i must answer when
called
i must move past
even you
into the in-between place
of shadows
and dark reality
i’m afraid to make you solid
scared of your scorn
my line to this
earth is
so tenuous, at best.

Prayer for lost stones

Do not weep for the story
that cannot now be told
Do not hold to the history
that seems to you incomplete
Do not lament for the lives
that have been lost to you
Do not cry
for lost stones

Lost stones will lay buried
in millenia of ash and rubble
to be found early one morning
by a man building
a house of worship

Lost stones will be put into
the foundation of a new home
will become the keystone
of a fortress of honour

And new hopes will rest
on their strength

The story of lost stones
will seep through
the earth to rise in a tree’s
outspread arms to the
sky where the sun
will rejoice in their tales

The pain of lost stones
will sink through the earth
run through it to the
lifeblood of flowing water
tears puring into the
sea where they mix
with the music of the Ainur
and finally find peace

What you have lost today
These stones upon which
is built the history of your life
will not be forever lost
and cannot be forgotten

You carry their joy
in your song
and your feet dance
across the face of
these lost stones, broken stones
and pattern their love
into the heart of the world

(October 7, 2006)

on the perimeter

mine is not to follow you
nor to walk in your shadow
i cannot hold your hand
i cannot watch your back

my life is that which is my own
solitary and alone
i will die without you
and so i must live without you

i know you want a different song
you want something more
something less than perfect
but i can only be as i am

don’t you think it’s hard for me
to ask you this
to delve into your soul
and return with nothing

don’t you know how it breaks my heart
to show you your aloneness
in the false neon of attachment
what is the test of my love?

moonlight and roses, dinner and diamonds
followed by tears
starlight coming through our window
wind drying the sweat from our skin

what can be more perfect than the vessel
broken, cracked, fragmented
beyond recognition
would you glue it together again?

i stand outside of the sky
and there are no stars here
love of mine,
how brave are you?

ghostly

chances taken, roads walked
sorrows we drank
  like blood along the way
the moon follows me into
    the darkest thickets
lighting the mind of the child
nights we howled
    under blurred stars rising
feral and fierce
the war god ascending
temples broken by
  the weight of our carelessness
prayers crunching
    under our feet like
broken glass
it’s all so ghostly

heaven opens wide
  with jaws of steel
and eyes of baleful fire
devils play harps
in fluffy robes
  singing like gandharvas
where is the lord of thunder?
i knelt before the sun
    you worshiped in the rain
but where were we
  what did we do
  why do i feel
  like a ghost now?

your arms around me
tearing out
    my soul
still i long for
your embrace
to bring me to the end
love, where does
  this forest go
i’m standing in the glade
where love was born
and hatred torn
and I cannot run

wheels burning inside
  the middle of the dark
hearts melting in our minds
and bleeding over sight
every gate we passed
  locked up tight
so we danced
    we capered on
far away from the
  colour of life
but the whispers
still follow with
ghost words in my ear

love, light the lamp
i’m so cold inside
build me a fire now
to keep out the wolves of night

love, hold my hand
i can’t feel my skin
i went too far, can’t come back
i’m lost again

Hold back the night

hold back the night
and quiet my aching mind
touch the velvet cover
that hides my soul from you

take me by the hand
and lead me to the place
where dark and light
meet and kiss on the
lips of the abyss

the lips of the abyss

draw your knife across
the bleeding cuts I have
on my heart, in my hand
drain it all away

fuel all my nights
with the sounds of your need
raise me up to the light
and tear me to shreds
in the dark

see me as I am
and try not to run from me
all that I have
is poured on the water

poured on the water

poured on the water

can you see me as I am?

Get used to it

i guess i just have to get used to not sleeping, but it would certainly be nice to get a full night of sleep. who knew good things could make you this crazy?

at least i’m writing everyday. lol.

on monsoon nights
the air is full of redolent
desire
breezes sigh
curling around your ears
like the tendrils
of your lover’s hair
rain falls
pregnant with life
with love
you see where he leans
against the damp
walls
the trees blow
swaying like seductive
dancers in the downpour
his voice rolls
across you
thunder over
a parched plain
like a bird
suddenly seeing freedom
your heart leaves
you behind
to stand wondering
as rain kisses
you

The White Tree sighing

(A song of Gondor)

Children, do you hear?
In the breeze, beyond the meadow?
Carried in the echo of tears
the echoes of time,
it is the White Tree sighing.

Love, can you feel
the weight of blessedness,
the love of the gods?
From the first Silver Tree
to the blossom in the courtyard,
the breath of light
leads us all.

Borne afar on winds of sorrow
past the death of hope,
knowing that its end would come
rejoicing all the more in life
White Tree! White Tree!
I hear your ancient sigh.

Flowers bloom
and flowers wither;
leaves flutter to the black water.
The tree dies aged and ageless
while in the mountain snows
a sapling sprouts
sad seeds, waiting
quietly breathing desolation.

My liege, my liege
can you lead the way?
Can life o’ercome crawling
death in the darkness?
Yes, for yours are the hands
of healing and of light;
pure, silver, as the eldest
of all the lamps of Heaven.

Children, do you hear?
Wafting on the sound of love,
Tree and King,
Love and Life,
joined at last together again.
This joy you hear is
the White Tree sighing.