Who are you?
What is your sound/vision?
What guides your call?
Deep gulps of morning coffee
Flickering sounds
An empty wall
With little splash marks
Years of service gone by.
This pen fades
The more I write,
Like fallen leaves
Into enrichened soil
Rhythms have lost my voice
Telling me of better days.
This is my closed feeling
And I want to race
I want to hurry and blur
Each time I hear the call
With an exclamation point
That rumors of peace.
But not a grace peace,
A peace made of flowers
And ocean air hitting hot sand
Where I’m closing my eyes
To all but my closed feelings.
Toulouse, my dream of maiden,
Fabric of life,
Seams of Sunshine meeting Flowers,
Crescent of the arcing Moon.
Feel the landscape of Blossom
Flowering as a wish,
For the light downy Feathers
That claim each mistake
Fall lightly beneath the big Oak tree
That protect each fair call
Like dew drops made from Gods.
I spoke to you before the call came
Before wind swept the landscape
As barren as the cold snow felt.
I listened to you inside my soul
Open hands and an open heart
Hearing your words,
Your doubly whispered thoughts
Detailed glances
And hands that held a universe of emotions.
I waited for your touch
Like a tall Spruce tree waits out Winter,
Bowing at engagements,
Reflexing against the pressure,
Silently bearing the mounting
Depth of moonlight and dropping temperature
With a full and well understanding
That with it shall come its anti.
Take me to another level
Where I walk about in bliss
Holding hands with fate unhinged;
A call amidst the wild
Where wonder holds the gift
One could only dare to take.
Can one day your abundance touch me?
Truth like lightening bolts
Thrown from Zeus himself.
And my eyes shall see openings
From whence your sail shall catch wind,
Pulling me towards ancient speed
Roaring in fierce aftermath
Abundantly striking me free.
Inverted extramere
I shall not turn my eye,
Though wrath of the God shall torture me
For it is in his kingdom
You shall dare set me free.
And in my deepest of layers
– Of which only then permit me sight,
It has always been mine blindness –
Call on me to share.
Read me like I am all here,
Nor leave me without all signs.
There I sit in mine throne
Stretched in abundance and call,
Laid bare as shown Virgil
And my heart reigned for thy lightening bolt
Sight into thine eyes.
You heard me calling out your name –
Upon my tongue it would forever last –
Though you took flight into the night,
At a half past forever gone.
I listened then into light wind
For the call I had learned as my own,
And here at last, my breaking point,
A white wolf on the run.
I dare not breathe for fear of alarm,
A fear my existence would cause caution,
Clear for me was how set free
Thy heart as latched bygone.
Your paws I tracked into deep forest,
My soft pads doubled your quick steps,
Leading me as if by force
Into your nature’s home.
It was here I finally sat atop
A rocky outcrop, a simple bluff,
Where every night I’d hear your call
Leaving me forever, never alone.
If I had heard a lover’s call
Way late at night when all was well,
I’d sharpen up my sharpest blade:
To the rescue, enchanted all.
My dear would swoon and share her thoughts:
Deep reverence for all I brought.
Her mind aglow forever more,
Ignition for my dwindling heart.
Could then my peace be eaten up
By scoundrels and necromancers?
Surely all my wisdom been sought
Guard me strongly against such draft.
So here I grow forever more
A lofty place for perched gargoyle,
A view to lay the world away
Into night with a lover’s call.
A call, like an answer
Came forth beyond belief,
Where hardly a shout
Had been landed and free.
Yet here was sunlight
Witnessing holiday ease,
And two strangled strangers
Carefully held onto the breeze.
Too many nights
I’ve been
Awaiting your call.
Like a whispering tree,
I’ve spun around with wild wind.
Can you call out
My name,
So I know it’s not dead?
There’s a pen at my study,
Perhaps spell it instead?
Long howls in deep darkness
Play our lonliest tune;
A soloists trumpet,
A clear moon and my
Distancing footsteps.