Valley of Death

[Written to:  Song of Sheherazade ]

Wind whips whispering want

each step a sip of winters wailing

and springs unfortunate delay.

Sky dangerously dark above

earth languidly unaware of soles

pressed defiantly deep upon it

carry one, who,

wrapped in weary wandering,

a wisp waging war against

gods who no longer speak

and siren songs no longer singing,

walks towards the edge of possibility

seeking a thing desired yet un-obtained.

Lo, thirst for rain does not grant it

nor retching render a ransom of hunger’s despair.

Dust for tears strangle sound

to subjugate doubt with oppression and fear!

All here gnash and gape and claw

at the heart of the feet who

carry it.

What is this madness?

Who, in a seeming sea of uncelebrated hubris,

rages yet again in this, an immortal and hopeless, quest?

A reply slips free

“’tis the quest of the living

the survival of a dream.”

Requiem Dreaming

Requiem Queen

of my dreaming

steal my wishful thinking

make real the passing of

stars mindward

bring me whole through the veil

stretched thin in sleep

let me breathe where

now only modern bells

dully sound

Allow chance choice and charity

mystery, magics, and madness

manifest touchable.

Please, do not leave me

here.

do not leave me

here.

not here.

The Divine

The path of the soul
covered moss and winding ways
finding the Divine in the great stars
in the ladybug crawling across the sill
the spider stowed away on shoulder
suffering my panic and fear
the cricket song, the wayward drumming,
the clicking of echoes and soft smile of stranger
a note left for lunches, porch cats greeting feet
cats paws, dog noses, random smells of October
trickling of a water bowl, light dancing from a screen
children skrilling, wheeling, wonderment, and wail
the momentary madness of forgetfulness
the memory of Spring…
yes, the path of the soul
the Divine
everywhere
in
everything

Passing by

On cold concrete warmed by sun

worn hands extend from worn sleeves

seeking solace from strangers

who are we should we not notice?

who are we should we ignore? 

does kindness require reassurance? 

kindness surely does not. 

don’t just pass by

Moment on a marble step

Sitting in a gateway my mind draws images of John, the homeless vet
Who stood quietly waiting for aid with a cardboard sign
explaining in detail his plight.
Chaotic numbness drowned the words
living on the thrown away luggage of unwant,
invisible underneath the heaving of a norm stuttering to not be.
I withdrew from my comfort to be comforted.
And for this I am left abandoned to my own remorse.
For John, I imagine, still a cardboard sign and
no more an inkling of my selfish aid’s soulful thorn.
Alas, I am less comforted now than when silence
finally stretched out to nothingness
my mind drifted, distracted by the presence of the city.

Spring Storms

Storms passed by the other day and the way they came in left quite an impression. Quickly the sky changed from sun to cloud, the wind whipped up as if furiously pushed beyond its measure, and the tenor of the morning was electrified with anticipation. What was coming!?

Then without hesitation the sky opened as the clouds resounded its warning, albeit seemingly late. The windows were awash blurring every already muted color. The building shook with each beat of sky. It was over in a matter of minutes – a half an hour no more. It left us without so much as a kiss goodbye or much evidence it had come save for the homage of leaves and branches scattering the ground.

The sun took its place once more, the day was all the more clear.

… with intent.

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