Alas, I have found you

Torn feet along the trodden path
I made my course along the way
moving through the windy peaks
of another darkened day,
cutting wind across my flesh
my eyes too blind to see
leaning in upon the mass
my weeping soul for to be free.

And then the sun it breaks the sky
shining upon my feeble frame
bringing with it songs of life
dispersing all my crying pain,
and beauty from the light did come
standing nigh upon sweetened air
her hands unfold to feel my reach
sunny smile and tender care.

Now my life it is fulfilled
every beat of my broken heart
sings brightly now with ticking time
as she and I are now one part,
verse is all that I may speak
for the language holds no weight
I express to you beyond this world
my eternal and loving soul mate.

‘Our’ little patch of ground

Tender little kisses, that’s what she is
hugs that bound the horizon
and gentle caressing hands that strewn my hair
she makes the sun shine brighter,
and fills my life with care.

Oh how the sweetness of tenderness
does shine away the shadows
no more despair in my plain views
melancholy all stripped away,
my lavender dancing muse.

I want to fly the clouds within your veil
and to always touch upon your stars
the ones that sing from out your voice
rippling through my vision,
making my humble heart rejoice.

Is this too much for one to ask
the subtle walk through open fields
to know the love is here not lost
among the clatter of the wields,
where devotion is a trying game
to see who will get what and when
money, material, children, commodity
the vicious cycle to no greedy end.

Nay, I say with covered ears
my eyes enshrouded with straining tears
and all the darker staring leers
that turn to my dismay.
But lo, I turn to see my light
she glows in all variety
shewing me the less plundered path
away from the common society.

She makes me whole and fills me up
my little world of knowing
that no one cares who we will love
or for what our deepest reasons;
and to look upon the rigid brows
of those who choose to move in strife
can never quake or shake our grounds
for ‘we’ are the creators of ‘our’ life.

For the price of a book

I can feel the solus
for people
alone in their loss
and the empty gains
of what was hoped
to be love,
but they sit
in differentiation
from what was
the expectation,
where the joys
of living
and the happiness
of two
has receded,
against the tender
movements
of caring,
the breath
upon each other
when two become one
and the union
complete,
all gone now
nothing more
than a turning page
and the value
as little or less
as such.

March May June and I

Lost within the phantasmal mime
slowly turtle whittle rhyme
to make the Mary meet,
twas here she says the sands were time
but the shoes were nigh the fit,
and every crooked shell she finds
is buried deep the darkest minds
where rabbit suffers curdling whine
and forever somewhere is set divine
along the favored pith,
but June May follow along the weigh
on coming with every flora
dash the spring and terse the noose
that chides the way for summers plethora,
making gusts for turtles chimes
as he fiddles his home from out sublime
and dons his napping cat mistime
to wake forlorn for dinner.

The foundation

Oh gentle sway
such pretty gravel
to cry out for the day,
singing songs of open sky
unraveling what come may.

Seeking bounds
in summer skins
all making for the shore,
along the sandy pebbled beach
from here and forever more.

Though sinking heart
among the waves
all trodden with no demure,
when one builds up on falsity
it crumbles at the core.

Free will

When did you become so full

my heavy flowing heart

to burden yourself with calming

in the hopes of a sweet depart,

your rivers fluid with yearning

a loss and find so rare

ever moving through the afterglow

no glory no shine no affair,

dripping in fainted sorrows

along the pattered path

footed broken bones

where daylight is dark with wrath,

there’s a deepness all around us now

seeking richly within our soul

crowding us into chambers

instilling empty bowls,

is there time to know his life

if only we understood

placed into a misled sleep

at the laden songs of creeping wood,

will wakeness never come

to save me from this falling course

stirring to me my senses

as leading water to a horse.