If I am kindling,
you must be the spark...
Much alive in the darkest dark,
lifting all shadows with
finesse and flair.

     If I am flame,
     you must be the air and wind...
     Unfettered and free...
     Cradling my infancy.
     Only to nurture and inspire,
     to groom flame to fire.

If I am faltering...
And almost extinguished,
you must be the hand...
Bearing the confidence and belief...
Awaiting the moment most opportune,
to align yourself in rhythm and tune.
So we could...
Continue to
burst forth into light.
So we could...
Resume our journey forth with might.

     Let us be our own deterrent
     from the darkness
     that comes with morrow's set.
     Hand in hand, we must...
     Because together...
          And only together,

   we're...

                        incandescent.

(10w)

~
intent of heart
goes further far than
talent of hand!

~

*post script.

much as my father used to tell me, "son, do not be a man whose talent elevates you to pinnacles your character cannot keep you!" his words ever ring true!!  a shout out to Denel, who inspired these words, with her own.  thank you, friend!! (: Steve

I I I I was immersed into Maria's  mystic  Veil  
      A relieving elegant relish of Rilke's mystic mist
Husked my binary perception as an Earthquake
       Easily brimms off the mountainpeak white frozen blanket
And helps Angels to swoon for a magnificent time lapse speed-->
        Up ornaments stiched with The Divine craft and Love on a
Flying carpet infatuated and melting from Sun's Immense impact
        When making love twice a day, Lovingly fulfilled with an
Intimate bluhing beauty of dancing Clouds de Dawn trying to kiss
       Dusk Cloudy deliverance. Resolve probably lied in many times
Read fluttering pages gazing Smiling Buddha who Knows  of   blissfi  pi  Lyrical     Mandolin   Elegies Obsessed With Seeking Answers By  
         Pressing against  Many  Hearts  Foolishly Misinterpreted
Pointless Colouring As An Act Of Reciprocal Love To  Central Black         Portals        Seeing      Thee      Gazed     Into   Intricate     Reminiscing
Me of Tempus Fugit Fragile Sudden Sadness Easily Evoken By You  
:::::

The birth of our day.
All fresh and touched with
The Master's hand
in dewy majesty.

The shell of sky
wet with foamy clouds.

The earth awaits wheeling birds
to rest again - benign in the
trees of their birth.
Burbling and raucous
in their boisterous
roosts.

Cacti creep along the
last vestiges of the
velvet night.

A coyote laughs.

He makes his lone way
up the still, starlit, streets.

And all is embraced by the
embarking orb emanating for eons
from the eastern estuaries.

I write upon mornings
because they are the marks of time
upon beginnings.

The new year begins at midnight.

But the new day?
ahh... the new day begins

with the

SUN.



SoulSurvivor
(C) 12/29/2015
all rights protected

---

quoth the raven...
                NEVER MORE
and the wind replied ...
                restore.... restore.

a waterbird
on a lonely lake
cried... whip-poor-will.....
and the wind said... take.

a snowy owl
in a gnarled tree
cried... who? who?
and the wind replied... THEE.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 12/13/2015

Wisps of lingering Cimmerian shade
Succumb to moonlights glaring decay,
Angels feathers arise in onyx death
Beauty taking final breath.

Our poems are fabrics

knit with the dreams inside
laid out in the open
so may a passing eye
grant a glance

a pausing mind
decides for a fleeting moment
to wear

thinking them their own.

Like a flower
a thorn too
is a  wish
that has a
point to make,
it stubbornly
sticks out
awaiting it's
chance to *****.