I stand here in morning rains
Grey skies
Surrounding me
I open up
Like the flower beside
It's cold
And drowning rain
Rinsing my soul
Of weary stains
Wet my eyes
Of tears needed yesterday
My soul was fixed
Lighting me with why
A melancholy scheme
Wandering the sky
A bird seeking home
Knowing its age is gone
Finding tranquility in pouring rain
Wet globes of home
Quenching dry eyes
Quintessence of solitude

Roaming through
No place else to go
Shadows call
Home wasn't here
The place where the burden goes
Shoulders aching
Under the load of a silent woe
Just a moment
An echo of home
Rest these weary bones
Violet rich
With eyes of storms
Soothing touch of otherworldly forms
Take me home
Where freedom roams

I held the moon

And knew immortality

I traded all my unforsaken days

To move within the eternal orbit of her night

To eclipse death

Yet here then the gap narrowed

I wrote a dozen poems in one night
A dip into memoryscape
Take my hand and hold it tight
I've remembered the way
A place of serenity in my sights
My footsteps mark the place
I need a companion to remind me it's alright
Someone to grant me a little time
To reassure the pillar of its might
Wise man's knowing why
Needs the understanding Seer's eyes
The soldier needs to hold his weapon tight
The traveler needs a memory of home
And the seeker needs to know there is light
Empty eyes need sight
Relief comes one step away
Do not grieve me as I go
Empty eyes have glimpsed a sight

Like every day it comes and goes
A number on a page
Of September moon
The sixth day just like my great-grandmother
Except she she was in 1920
I came on Labor Day
My mother says she took the meaning seriously
But that was many years ago today
Three, six, nine
I've got them in spades
My poker face hides the smile that never fades
Born in dying heat of Autumn blues
Refreshing cool and end of summer
Have always been my restful cue
Twenty-seven may it be a good year for you.

Have you ever seen the moon rise
Fall on high tide
Echoes of cold light?
Have you ever looked in a pool of silver
Gaze at the reflection staring back?
Both speak of silence
Moments of thought not easily described
Have you witnessed the light in your eyes?
Or the pull and push of your tides?
At night when all is quiet and the world sleeps,
Have you looked inside?
Reflections
Real or not
What does the mirror say?
Of your windows and gates