Friday, June 20, 2008

Ritual Comfort

Struggling to breathe,
sitting in uncomfortable sanctity.
Burning incense singes my mind.
Take me away on wings of black alabaster,
knees bent in worship of a different kind.
Within a temple of comfortable ritual dreams.

Closed

The slow trickle.
The terrifying burn.
The ebb and flow of lives lived,
lives lost,
lives yet to be.
For a brief time
I've closed my eyes,
my heart,
my mind.
The pain is too sharp
to be open right now.

Searching

ebony and alabaster
flare of smoke, stench of oily flame
the candle flickers, dance of light
divine inspiration
lost in the blink of an eye
through fields of mirth
and back again
seeking muses amidst the pain

Reaper

rustle of feathers as
night's air rushes past
raven's call beckons

In Memory, Henry Young (1929-2008)

Life, racing past.
Moments in time,
lived, brushed over.
Time is elusive
running away with
fleeting memories
day by day.
The hours turn into months,
months to years.
Time slows to a crawl,
suddenly interrupted.
Life ticks to a standstill.
The peace that eluded
his restless spirit
here on earth,
in this life,
granted in abundance.
Eternal peaceful rest.
He was loved.
He will be missed.
He lives on in all of us,
fleeting memories,
day by day.
Eternal peaceful rest.

Friday, June 13, 2008

Fallen Angel

fallen angel,
having tumbled out of the heavens
snowy white, downy feathered wings
tattered and torn, shredded,
singed by the hellfires
that cushioned your fall
speak to me oh muse of my dreams
'tis not me who chose you
but fate eternal that drew us
unsuspecting, unwilling souls together
we are moths drawn too near a flame
heat that sustains
heat that burns
our goal remains the same oh phoenix
that your wings will sprout anew
and that you will fly from the ashes
a new beginning to a circuitous life

Dawn

Gauzy floating mist,
shifting, shimmering.
She floats,
she hovers, she glides,
flitting in and out of hazy focus.
Hurry!
Catch her, find her!
The sun rises soon,
the mists burn off,
and she will be gone
faded into nothingness.
For 'tis in the early morning
near-darkness, near-lightness
that she exists,
that she survives.