In sunblank white,
a-shimmer is the sky.
Multifaceted fragmented droplets
strewn asunder through the air,
and we are soaked with atmosphere today;
there are no shadows anywhere.


The sun mourns its fleeting dreams.
Nostalgically, kissing the intimacy of morning,
it drinks itself into oblivion.

But, there is starlight on daybreak’s breast
and my primal mind beseeches:
Stay inside and paint the cave with color.
Gray days need not complain
and the heart needn’t ache
of winter’s whispered promise.

It is a season of ghosts
of ruby dusk, and windswept mystery;
with death, things move,
yet life slows, to nigh halting breaths.

We are blissful, melting in memories.

Eyes sparkle
with the magnetism of the ageless
as we reminisce and wish
to pass along songs sung by our eras.

Through our creation,
legacy gleams eternal,
the world vibrates
with the synergy of consciousness,
and those yet long unborn
dwell with us in the universal heart.