You will be the sun, and I the moon.
I will reflect the light, the shine that shines from you.
I so close but you so far, almost just a distant star.
When you apper I will leave, but I still see your light, still reflecting your shine.
In between us the earth, that we both see, for this we both care.
The earth, the love and without us it would not be there.

Little cracks like weeping windows
we grow opaque
and under the pale blue moon
(tainted)
you seep into my soul


© A. Leigh

The billowing sea
bows down dancing,
the cool one comes—
with love,
as if with a flute on the lips,
rising from the deep.

Listen to the flute.
Chorus clouds sing,
drifting down the blue river—
so mellifluous, into the sky they soar!

From the secret valley,
the punter sun ambles in,
carrying wonderlight,
as if it knows the flutist’s art—
knows the rise from the sea’s bedrock.

Every planet spins—
a flying bee drawn to the inner music.
Nothing pauses in the solar ring.

The Moon, waning and waxing,
in silhouette and half-light,
sways above the sea full of life.

It all began on this Earth, from our sea—
Him, the Sweet Creative Maestro rose from the midst,
and lifted the sun, the bumblebee.
All the stars in the galaxy
follow still—
they can't forget the ancient story.

Since then,
the sun, brightest in the band,
leads the mindful dance
enduring, homeward—
still following
the haunting, eternal tune, pure mighty
the one command: Qun. Be.

Beneath the stars
The desert stretches
Its dusty mountains
A coyote howls.
Beneath the dirt
The flowers stir
Like measured whispers
To a lover.
The owl flies away silently
Leaving drops of blood
On the stones.
Soon the moon will rise
Like heartbeats.
All those hidden thoughts of mine.

I suspect you already know this
but i’ll mention it anyway
I still long for you every day
I sneak into your dreams and speak poetry
like a winged owl, i fly
beyond reason and touch the sky of longing
gone are our shadows
lost are our fears
all that remains are tears
and magic
which are here only for a second
until they too must disappear

In the middle of the night
as the breeze soothes the mind.
A lonely owl steps out to the light,
leaving his nest behind.
The moon shines
and the wind blows.
A nightingale hymns
while the gaslight glows.

Nocturnal creative artists at work.
The night fuels their quirk.
Then a sudden cacophony disturbs the air.
A noise no one can bare.
From a distance it can be heard.
It whistles, but it is not a bird.

It slows as it reaches its destination.
Breaking through the peace with its whistle.
The train stops as it reaches the station.