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WL Schuett Oct 2020
Goodnight my friend
I say my prayers
of the Earth ,
of the four winds
and the rain.

You have given all that
was inside your heart
and have moved on
to the quiet peace
of the shadows .
Where the winds have stopped
and the stillness is eternal.

I will think of you
when the cold ashes
of the night fires
are relit by the
dying embers
of a shooting star .

Only the mountains now
seem immortal.
It is true and right to die .
To navigate the high passes
over into the valley
of the shadows below .

My friend the hour
of the mirror will hold us .

I will look for you
whenever my heart feels
the tug of the
roadless horizon.
I will look for you
deep in the shadowlands
of mist .

I know
we will come together
when the winds blow
inside the shadow
of the shadows.

Goodnight my friend
travel that wind
into the mists
cold and damp .

And I will say
my prayers .
WL Schuett Jul 2020
No garden in this wind ,
no god in this garden.
The moon shot hope
from the meadow .

Walked in the forest
and yelled at the ferns
then apologized.

This feminine tree
seemed much older .
At the rivers head
it cried.

The vicious circle
closed then opened
and in it I flounder .

The final
sun on my shoulder
through the whispering leaves .

Heavily, the deep quiet
of the river bottom envelopes me .
How do rivers begin ,
I cried .
WL Schuett May 2020
Black bag hanging on
a yellow wall .
Temptations most foul .
A gathering of innocents.
The reckoning of the darkness
the mercy of the careless dawn .

Trying to let the pain escape
from a bent back Orchid
to a backlit heart shaped bush .
In the dominion of
the night grace ,
steep stairs and
wind walks .

Wander eyes silent
in the misty morn .

Night flies and thunder slips
as echoes cast the spells
of the god of
emptiness and despair.

From grains of salt
She emerges
trying to put the
pressure asunder.
Not an unkindly Angel
flowing from the
lonely light .
Who shall deliver me
my sweet surcease .
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