the soul of joy grows in circles
it glitters in children's cheeks
singing together washes away
the momentum of nonsense
I contemplate the unknown,
the right proportion of light of darkness
their breath kept in balance,
the golden harvest of hearts,
of hours
the fir tree gives away
some scent, some wonder

Merry Christmas

Shrouded in this mystical darkness
The tenderness of fog a good company
The winter silence reinventing its language
The inception of tears suspended
How wonderful to love everything as it is
Like trees love the patience of earth

time is circling its core like a villain
streets are running under my feet
is that the inflamed sky

call me your fortune teller, disaster, whatever
I condemn you to the bestiary of my clarity
you'd better make up  another camouflage or transparency,
a savage new name for devilry each day

you smile an unfiltered smile,
like a Sisyphus of tease and play

The temple bell stops -
but the sound keeps coming
out of the flowers.

Matsuo Basho

Poised quill in hand,
Tip in the ink-well dipped,
Page by turned page,
Words paint a picture,
Stories unfold,
Imagination unleashed.

Cleaned brush in hand,
Bristles mixing colors,
Hues emerge upon the palette,
Strokes create a story,
An image takes shape,
Imagination into a masterpiece.

Sharpened pencil in hand,
Sketching upon the tablet,
Circles and lines create form,
Fingers smudge lines,
Subject unveiled,
Imagination into portrait.

Ink pen in hand,
Page filled with lines,
Time and key,
Notes create a melody,
Score of emotion,
Imagination of music.

The artists are unbound,
Author of fueled stories,
Painter of fueled images,
Illustrator of fueled portraits,
Composer of fueled music,
Artists with one commonality,
Fueled by the Power of Imagination.

The truth
got lost
in the maze of justice