The bird of passion stirs in me,
long hours wiled restless sitting,
wings constrained, enclosed, enribbed
gilt-caged and breast bound,
by my gently beating heart.
The Sun’s light lives in the leaves,
as love resides in a home, as thoughts of you
live warm and bright in me.
Pale points of light
adrift on night’s
great black nothing.
I saw the moon, blushing,
peer shyly from behind
midnight’s blue-black curtain.
The lunar lantern
silhouettes the trees, brightly
limns my memories.
The roads and ways we walk in life were charted and paved long before we were born; set out for us by past acts, finished stories, secret histories, known and unknown ancestries.
We chart our own courses in wilderness sprung up from days and nights on which bygone suns and moons have long since set; littered all about with ruins – the hulks, hulls, and husks of lives and times long since gone by.
In this vast and morphic expanse, everything that might be done has come before, and will be done again. It is no wonder we so often become lost wandering these roads and ways in flux, which close behind us, and shift and change again.
All a man can do is forge on, learn from the past, anticipate the future, and do the best he can wherever he finds himself.
Oh, Queen of the Night!
I glimpsed you through the veil of leaves,
through the pale sky-mist.
Oh, Queen of the Night!
I saw you in your lambent beauty,
your full, bright majesty.
Oh, Queen of the Night!
My heart is smote by love for you,
captivated by your light.
On the stones in the grass,
in the shade from the leaves,
with the light in my eyes
by the swift-running water;
for a moment in time,
I held grace in two hands.
I cannot read the thoughts you do not speak,
but I see the one that hides in the quiver of your lips
and the half-formed tears upon your eyes.
Off White 