The railway car glides along the line,
bringing us to our fated destiny;
The churning of the wheels below,
screech louder still in close proximity.

With enemies waiting in a starlit station,
I gather my packages with haste;
the family curse biting away at night,
We're captives of the nomadic chase.

They sent for us during winter's storms,
to carry out the duties of a raging war;
Between enduring legends of the countryside,
and those whose thoughts burnt ancient scars.

The frenzied lot coaxed us into wagons,
with cheap wine and women of the street;
Fear engulfed my heavy heart of stone,
and my brothers shouted for a brief retreat.

Corralled into a filthy barn of horses,
and cows who moaned throughout the night;
I hugged the eldest whose eyes were empty,
and climbed onto a horse and took to flight.

Awakening now from the deepest sleep,
I saw a young man from my dreary stare;
who covered me in a blanket of straw,
Which soothed me from the cool night air.

It was then I realized my family was safe,
the fighting and bloodshed never came to pass;
As my brothers had escaped into the woods,
and my dream-like state shattered like an hourglass.

I empty myself
Let the cup run dry
As the goddess speaks
She promised me
It's what keeps my dreams
My dusty feet are worn
And I search for relief
She answers me
With wreaths and answers I can hardly surmise
The great divide makes it hard sometimes
Remember us! They plead
I emptied myself last night
Waiting for the goddess to arrive
She came right on time
What draws me is her connection to me
The shapes and colors I see
The ones that resound with me,
Are where I need to be
For this long hike into eternity.

I remember when I first saw you
in such a state,
shifting with the direction of light,
viola shaped,
the boudoir door slightly ajar.

Rings exchanged,
veil removed,
the bells had chimed for us,
and then for
ships in safe harbor.

The pitter patter of
surf cascading in
from an open window,
otherwise hushed,
turnt and *****,
dimples showing
whether you smiled or not.

Turnabout was fair play
--azure hues in moonlit pastel
caressing the folds and ties
around midnight’s chemise
--the lure of velveteen
and vast soft canvas of pearl
--areolae circles and quaint triangles
in the thick of things,
gift-wrapped in elegant fur.

Belle-chose, under
the waxing, waning crescent
of dainty omphalos, yawning in chiaroscuro,
red-faced and piqued,
quite shy coming out of the shadows.

The batting of lashes,
the lingering scent of bouquet
--like the seduction of flute song,
I followed and followed
until thoroughly lost within you.