a
first step.
a
deep breath.
a
tiny tremor
of delight.
faintly tangled
up
in
questioning webs
of fear.
until
we embrace
the
chaos
of Her design.
who knew
each kick
or
tumble,
or
exchanged bliss,
would
take you
here,
to where you need
to be?
who knew?
safe in
a soft
empty,
silver’s magic
flows
between
this step
and
the
next.
there
is nothing
but this,
and
paradise.
high above,
She sweetly
bores through,
with mystique
&
grace-
She is
lovely,
she is,
more.
She sees
the serene infinite
is
nothing more
than a pit for the blind.
a void for the dammed.
She smiles down,
mockingly
cold, and wicked.
jealous
of your fire.
burn
baby
burn
silver laced words
fly
without fail
when
Inspiration whispers
softly
in my heart’s ear.
but
behind each
flowery phrase,
is a mountain
of Truths
i can not share:
indescribably delectable.
wickedly unattainable.
awesomely wondrous.
fearlessly flawless.
beautifully,
a-
Muse
-ing.
thank you
morning rises
up this hill
light
and
swift.
new chapters,
exciting times,
fresh beginnings
yet,
memories drift
back to sweetness,
they drift,
back to
you.
words fall flat
as
inspiration flees.
nonetheless, the words
fall.
….bidden certainly
(desperately), so
fall they do;
tortured
and unceremonious,
but
sincere,
and
true.
ugly words,
not fit for love.
loathsome phrase,
that kindle no one.
but here i am
humbled
and open,
ready to surrender,
and receive
a creative spark
from the sacred,
or the profane.
calm rages
against,
in your deep.
unforgiving acceptance knows no bounds.
resisting
the lure
of peace,
keeping inflamed;
or
burn cold,
and burn
mean.
reason &
patience contest
with time,
tempting you
from
that which
must abide.
wither, whether, whirl,
or want,
the road awaits,
patiently.
destination determined long ago:
before eye opened.
before heart awakened.
before path chosen.
beauty,
fleeting and fickle
like the moon,
cannot guide you…at least not for true.
love,
flowing fresh and pure,
may still dry
under persevering Sun.
what compass, clue, or guide remains?
how then,
do we wind
along?
one step at a time,
this way,
or that;
our destination awaits,
patiently.
drowning
decadent in the empty,
everything
grows
as you shrink.
nothing
enfolds you
recklessly.
nothing
teases blissful
future.
nothing
calls you to
the present.
nothing to do,
but be.
nothing,
but moon’s song
will enflame
your loins.
nothing,
but rhythm
will carry
you
home.
listen to the words
hidden in the quiet.
hear the magic
roiling in your chest.
nothing
will
take
you
here
in the
darkness,
and
nothing will
set
you
free.
through stone
and
tree
and
beyond
the roaring caterpillar,
there
you will
find me.
peircing
and
unifying
the sacred
and the obscene.
rush
of secrets
over slip,
slippery stone.
a silent roar
of tiny voices,
beckoning farewell.
a wind stirs.
the present calls.
theDeprevation 