Oh not of this earthly hallows bring
about his sin, he is only ****
after all if not death, perhaps love.

This spiritual sense takes a hit
as the hunter sights a turtle dove,
or the rust of an old widow's ring.

His affection is only mocking
where my lust and love had one time sit
he is but a hand without it's glove.

Show a dove your hat trick’s hand-shake.
Wrap your qualms tightly with a bow.
Pierce the heart with your lover’s stake.
Eternally put on the show.

Whisper to your hard heart’s content.
Love the mother, and love yourself.
Take a dip, embrace the warm scent.
Enjoy, evolve, enchant, love itself.

Softly spoken secrets, scattered and stained.
A thorn’s thoughtful gaze casting its judgment.
There is no moral here left to be gained.
She may try, but no more shall she repent.

Seconds, minutes, brushstrokes drawing the dawn.
Each moment wasted by her hesitance.
“What does it all mean? Is it truly gone?
Or perhaps it’s just cheap happenstance.”

A facsimile. Mere memories of you.
She blinks her eyes, and greets the morning dew.

There is a draft by the front room windows.
It makes your old bones hollow and weary.
It drags the dust bunnies out from the shadows.
It makes all the lost memories start to subtly ache.
What a power this little wind holds in its hands.
A sign from god perhaps, perhaps a little flurry.
All I know is I hope it comes and I hope it goes.
Rip through my arm and cut from within.
This little breeze uncovers our sins.
It dances in the moonlight and runs to the sun.
It whispers her name and starts to make fun.
It rips open the drawers and sharpens the knives.
It pulls at the sails with all of its might.
It wishes well and calls me its friend.
It dangles what I covet off a string and then
I know that it has to say the words to this song.
All along it was nothing but a ghost.
It ripped out my brain cells and tore at my chest.
It offers up peace and yet it still stabs.
Over and over and over and over again.
Oh lord does it still stab.
Until finally with an oily rag the window is sealed.
Finally the draft is gone, and finally we can heal.

There is a certain warmth in the winter.
Born within the four walls that we call home.
Despite the frost enveloped window-pane,
I find a flush blushed up against my cheeks.
A grin spies itself upon our marble faces,
love encroaches itself within the gloom.

A snow globe surrounded by ink.
A freshly lit candlestick's heavenly glow.
A mother and father slowly swaying
A gaggle of children conspire and cringe.

We have arrived at the solstice.
We have arrived at the season of cheer.
We have arrived at the moments of unity.
We have arrived, and we know no more fear.

I wish I could hear the whisper of the wind.
I wish I could witness one last smile's smoky stain.
I wish the colors would not fade in the fall.
I wish for the peace found in your voice's call.
I wish to remember that opossum's grin.
I wish for the love to drown out the pain.

I wish for everything.
I wish for nothing at all.

A whispering brook drifting by my ear.
Tells me all your secrets, shows me your curse.
The songs it sings embrace this fetid earth.
Oh what I would give to rest in its depths.
Lay my head down gently, and treasure its worth.

"Spin the wheel!" cries the rat in his tin cage.
While the shopkeep sits, polishing his rage.

Wherever you are.
Whatever you are doing.
Please, just be okay.

Away at arm's length sat the window pane.
Thoughts glistened, staring into my mind's eye.
And I stared back, and whispered in hushed tones.
Nothings, noises lost to the shifting sands.

But perhaps unearthed one day we shall sit.
Hand in hand, piece by piece, we too may wilt,
but wilt together, wilt at peace, by peace.
So hush now and let us embrace the beast.

I look to my Luna, my sun and stars.
My one remaining joy, life's true passion.
At times I see Pandora in her smile,
and in those moments the haze fades away.

Some might say my mind is a bit ajar,
A traitorous fanatic lost in sin.
This is fine, let them ramble, meanwhile
by Luna's side I'll live another day.