I stare intently into the moon at night,
The only being that keeps you near,
I whisper gently so my words take flight,
And nestle carefully around its ear.

I ask it to show you what I had been,
To the almost nothing I became,
To show you the halfling others have seen,
Roaming the dark whispering your name.

I complete my prayer every night,
By asking the moon to let you know,
I miss you dearly but I'll be alright,
Distance is but room for love to grow.

I pray the moon lend its ear,
To my late tales and lament,
May it shine bold and clear,
When your return is imminent.

Fields bloom at the same time every season,
In the same colours standing no taller than before,
We anticipate their return from winter vacation,
To only watch them blossom then leave them for bore.

Our knotted spines are but nimble stems,
Bent over willingly at the slightest breeze,
With eyes only for chests filled of gems,
We dismiss the beauty of one as a tease.

Fields bloom at the same time every season,
And each season is not quite like before,
Taking the time to admire each blossom,
Turns every field into a world to explore.

A body that sends chills through my own,
At a distance you are no taller than I.
Deep blue and crystal white make your tone
Luring the attention of those passing by.

Little is known about your crumbling anger,
That your tears pour in sheets of ice,
There are few who would slave and hunger,
For to claim you asks too tall a price.

Your lows tower above our highest highs,
Your peaks leave heads in the clouds.
People meet their ends or lose their minds,
By simply trying to figure you out.

Mother always said,

"Love, when found, is like a mountain.
Timid and striking from far it will draw you in.

Climbing endlessly it would seem,
You will enjoy many jousts with Love.
It will thin the line between reality and dream,
And show you perspective from above.

Each story with Love
Is a scroll to be unfurled,
Brave the journey son,
And you'll be left atop of the world."

in the residing calm upon every storm,
rainwater quietly turns to vapour.
the sun breathes its warmth and clouds form,
conjuring new rain to drench the Earth in vigour.

and so alike...

my being is drenched in memories of thee
at night they rise above me watching me seep.
they play stories of a new you mixed with me,
reciting a cycle of life that i wish very much to keep.

if i could be given a choice,
i would withstand your downpour everyday until dawn
if only i could drift off as vapour to your voice
gaining warmth from echoes of your sweet yawn.

In taming fire,
Tongues often burn.
Fire cannot be,
Unless it takes in return.

the abrupt confusion of people
when confronted by unconditional kindness
is addictively amusing and,
quite the damper.

how tragic we are,
capable of selfless service
meeting it only with suspicion and,
disbelief.

"I've wilted missing this lady. A tiresome thing."
Said a mind full of strength worn out like a broken king.

Exists no preoccupation so large it could sling,
Shut, over the sweeping love she so often brings.

All sounds are heard in echo of her voice and what it sings,
Soothing me such that my shoulders droop like folded wings.

I'm half an adventurous soul kept at bay in wait of his ying,
A yan in wait, a bud that shall bloom, when arrives its light of Spring.