On High

This song, my love—
may it pierce your heart like silver-moon earrings,
the pair I clasped beneath your hair.
Close your eyes now,
and let me lift you—
let me hold you on high,
let me hold you on high.

Out where Kansas wheat outshines the stars,
we’ll tread those golden oceans;
and even if forgiveness falters,
my heart will still rise, wide and free, to love you.

Over and over—over and over—
red Georgia peaches, warm on the tongue,
Florida beaches, wave upon wave:
I’ll write you a new refrain
to carry us home, to sweep us clean,
while diamonds at dusk
wait patient on the shore.

So let Chicago’s sunrise blaze you back to life—
let dawn’s red hymn baptize your dreaming eyes.
Then breathe me in, cling tight,
like a California midnight that swears
the night is ours alone.
As sure as the ring on your finger,
let this moment be—
a hush held only by you and me.

And if your heart grows hard,
let us return to one—
let me rest again where the silver crescents shine.
Let me hold you on high,
let me hold you on high.

Let Us Dance
By A.R. Combs

My love,
tonight the world is hushed in wonder—
and the zephyr winds sing your name,
soft as silk through the trees.
The stars—oh, the stars—
sparkle like the jewels that once kissed your ears,
while the White Mountains shimmer
like a memory too precious to hold.

Come closer.
Feel the hush between our fingers,
where the wind lingers gently—
and on this quiet balcony,
let us dance.

Above us, the heavens are blooming—
a thousand silver streams,
ribbons of prayer and crystal air
spilling into the Milky Way.
Below the soft fire of Christmas lights,
beneath blue star-rivers,
let us sway like moon shadows,
and spin like time made of light.

Dreams rise on the breath of night,
but time—time falls fast,
and fear moves slow.
Let your worries slip from your ankles like silk,
let the fire of your fear
twirl and burn beneath your steps.
For the world sleeps now,
craving color in their dreams,
and we are still awake.

Let your hair fall like a midnight cascade,
and let your perfume
wrap itself around the flames of your heart.
Taste the night.
Spin with starlight.
Let the steel-blue sky
break and fall like silver rain around you.

Dance, my wild beloved—
dance like a songbird too full of joy to keep still.

Dance with me
until our shadows join the skyline,
until our laughter becomes the wind,
and the rhythm of our dreams
is all that remains.

There in the color of the stars, I found you beneath the blue skyline,
under the icy wind of my warm tired prayers, desiring your spirit alone.

In the garden of memories, we began so well.
The Coca-Cola wonders, the Yamaha thunder ride into the sunset,
The thousands of people in Texas-sized arena, where you stood like a princess with laughter, standing in white, standing with me,

nothing could take you away.

But years after years, the warmth of your hands,
started to bring memories of grief, the candle of your heart,
I held so carefully, only burned me - continually.
Even my prayers betrayed me -
the colors of stars turned only darker yellow
And when I waited for season of grace - I only was left with dances of eggshells, fire, brimstone, and smaller gifts and compliments.

In my endless love, I know if we wander,
it's not always lost, but times like these
make the bridge between your heart and mine,
just a wall - of monstrous cactus, locusts, - just orbs of sorrow,

only sadness and pain I feel.

As soon as I step away, the planets seem to align, and
my prayers start to feel like home again.
And the silver necklace you gave me, becomes like a compass,
things go well, I find meaning and peace.

From these wintry nights or darker days -
from a broken heart, we both can be mended - I do know.  

I hope you find me in the colors of the stars, in the speed of its gravity and

maybe

I can find you in the silver garden of memories,
when you love yourself again, and
walk long enough around your red beautiful home,

and if you are searching, and asking
you can find me in the map of galaxies,

between you and I,

In the decades of light,

In all our prayers,
in my dark brown eyes.

Golden skies and grass greens,
ribbons and threads and legacies,
heavens and harlots, power and age.
It's all flames in the end, isn't it?
All words, all swords, fall so, perfectly.

And like a cancer, you can eat the cigarettes' so sweetly,
all the champagne flowing so freely,
And when we wait for our Paris.

Life makes you intoa a creatures below, surprisingly like mosquito in summer
eating in the garden of fire, to live happily.

It's all smokes and shadows tomorrow,
and it falls like a cold shaped drink, like a dollar
swinging, settling, hoping to be taller, but falling
in our hangover and faded like-memories
in the black morning, of anxiety and sorrow.

Just eating in the garden of fire,
dragons, vampires, pirates and scabies.
All from a broken shaped bottle with ***** like choices,
liars of empires, sweats of angels and children,
it all flames in the end, in the garden of fire, isn't it?

But when the wind turns north,
will you turn and know, when the rich
and the wicked find no more?

If we slowly find the money isn't the answer to all things,
and the battles, bills, and blessings don't become our idols
maybe eternity, will overflow, we can lie down in grass so green,
and like mountains, like kings, we will find happiness so free.

Surely in meadows and forests, witches and wickedness,
anger and bitterness, will be song so forgotten once we are so free.

We will eat the richest cheese, running into homes of orphans,
we can cause them to be such kings, alive and well and so happy.

Before the end truly comes, in time and reason, a new healing,
king and throne, with eyes so weary, knees and backs so heavy,
we will remember, like a song so catchy, a life set free.

R iver of silver blues, like a catch I found you, all the way here.
O h, how perfect your personality & painting,
- but how shortly & beautifully, you appeared.
M emories after memories, from cruise ships to eatery,
A nd like a good scenery, I remember your paintings,
N ever, have I felt so smitten by the accidents of life, but
A lso said so well, like a graven image of time,
    - "These are why moments are made so precious & divine."

In the summer night, below the sunshine,
I met you darling, here, and all of your friends.

And like you're golden earring, you became my energy
the whisper to my night, the sparkle in the ocean deep.
And when we waited for the morning song of the sunlight,
from this time on, you became a part of Romania to me.

For below the skylit ocean, in Varme Vece
between the purple, red, and blue stars, and you.
In all the colors of the blue, I want you to
Remember America golden skies when I leave.

So in the "Glo"of the clubs, or light and fame
of another day when you lead in therapy,
and when you restore the might of the weak,
Or between the wine and dine, and good games,

in the same way, my dear, you know you can find meaning
From these summer nights or darker days -
from a broken heart, you also can be mended - you do know.  

So when you struggle and trying to find the words to say,
When you yourself feel lower than the ocean sand,
you can trace these memories, and search for my hands,
and fall in line and feel warm and safe in these summer days.

Beneath a blue and velvet skyline,
lie the buried ruins of grandmother’s dreams—
a cactus fence dividing heaven from hell,
where stress deepens, and whispers keep secrets.
Yet still, we sing—of us, of light,
of the newness rising with the day.

The King’s song is always playing—
a rhythm spun from his sacred guitar.
From his hand, dreams are strummed
into color, into healing:
bloodstream over bloodstream,
muscle into bone,
and humanity becomes free again.

But time, relentless, steals the rings of planets.
The oceans of stars fall like ash from heaven,
islands of gold dissolve to dust,
and people collapse into longing.
All wisdom seems lost—
yet moonlight remains,
and still, the King’s dreams set us free.

So come—
Sing.
If we sing his song,
our hearts will grow like the giant trees of Brazil,
and the river of hope will flow full and perfect.

Dance beneath this promise.
Lift your voice like starlight.
Pour your wine and give me your heart—
for His love carries us,
and beneath this red rooftop,
we may rest without fear.

Can you see it?
The ocean mirrored in the sky
above the Brazilian shore,
resting and healing the soul of the green earth.
So let me hold you.

Like your wedding ring,
my voice will shine in the quiet of the broken night.
You’ll feel the ocean of memories
right here—
in my hand.

Let my voice unlock creation,
echoing the language of your dreams and desire.
For I love you.

And now—
see the moonlight reigning over the stars,
painting grace into the still night.

As the moon stands crowned with power,
so too shall I open the gates of our dreams—
as your King.