Fog and river
slide into the emptiness:
night claims her prize.
memories wisp and echo
through silent leaves,
singing tales of romance
and woe.
somewhere
out there, among
the whispers,
and between the darkness,
hope reigns
triumphant-
until sun rises again
burnt bridges
&
busted brooms
swept under
to fill the void,
along with the broken dreams
we never lost.
flights of fancy
dashed
mercifully
upon the truths of the past.
presents earned;
presence lost, only the
illusion remains
untouched.
clearing the ashes
by hand.
and so once again
we begin.
sail with me,
like a heart on the wind,
anchored by butterflies, and hope, and impossible dreams.
flying so high
so homeless, and
so free.
we have nothing but today.
but I’ll love you tomorrow,
till the end of time.
passion may find you
& fear will protect you.
but a life lived grandly
will always
save you.
welcome love
into the softness of your soul,
or slip safely
behind fear’s tall walls.
either way,
life rolls on.
golden waves
of joy
light
my day
with hope, flooding
these senses with possibility.
yet it is under your midnight sky,
shrouded in mystery
and
wonder,
where I find Truth.
this cathedral of wonder,
where I lift my heart to sing
in worship
of the infinite within.
longing for salvation
on a road to nowhere,
and praying
for a return to the innocence
that never was.
just a taste
of your grace
to know
your wonder…
just
a
taste.
hunger ripped days
and tortured nights
leave me
full of wanting.
so come,
let us feast,
together.
capturing the confusion
within
until
that skein of fear
slips away violently,
drowning
this world
in woe.
Or,
simply setting us free.
moonwalking into spring
i slip
back into winter’s cruel grasp.
cold solitude leaves me rooted
in a rootlessness that knows no end, and
tethered to a yearning
that has no name.
this longing,
undiminished yet
faltering,
like a wet feather in the wind.
swirling galaxies of delight and wonder
wait
to find their way
to you.
if only i was strong enough,
if only there was time enough.
if only.
if only.
a stalking wind,
hot
dry,
charged with audacity
and purpose,
rolls in
over my dreams,
sending tingles of nostalgia
through these borrowed bones.
it is time.
are you ready?
theDeprevation 