Dreamed about for centuries,
humanity finally now knew they were not alone in the universe.

They had arrived in such a manner that our instruments detected them only three days before their arrival.

Some believed it was an attack, or a mere scouting party for a larger force, others believing the ship was actually derelict, operating on autopilot long after its occupants perished.

Soon, both those theories were put to rest as the ship landed and indeed life forms emerged from it.

But there was no diplomacy with them, no greeting of peace or aggression.

They exited their craft, the hulking oblong thing that it was and merely wandered.

For weeks and months, a half dozen of them crossed fields, climbed hills, sat in the woods, splashed in streams and just generally meandered.

They had no weapons, no advanced tools to aid in their travels, they had what appeared simple fibrous blankets, a large metallic ***, dulled by age and a single instrument with which to light fires.

Any attempt by political, military or media figures to approach them and engage with them in any communicative way failed as they showed no interest.

No one dared to try and corral them anywhere, for fear yet that it was some kind of strange survey party, one that would report back to a much large fleet or home world.

Yet after a time of a little less than a year they had returned to their ship. there was no message, no waving goodbye. They simply closed the door and after a few minutes of undoubtedly preparing their instruments they left.

The world then waited. Years, decades and centuries for another visit.

Searching, determining, where the ship had gone and from where it came.

But it's origin or destination were never located.


No subsequent visit came.

It must be dark
out here in the cold penumbra,
where mile after mile
no one smiles,

dots and loops,
dots and loops,
a kind of blissful nullity,
beautiful and pointless,

wearing at the edges
it almost stings,
seclusion unraveling
at the underground in us all,

aubade aberrations abound,
challenging the orthodoxy
of the troublesome
morning road,

but should this near-life experience
hydroplane toward
another mineshaft, it helps to know
less is less, not more.

The red orange sky
Turns to purple glass
The sun recedes
And the light does pass

Far away and beyond
The curve of the Earth
Conceding to the stars
Their nightly worth

Yet the moon is absent
Unseen on high
Missing from orbit
In the great night sky

And it has been for ages
On this long since strange world
Where once it was near
Now to the void has been hurled

Where it drifts unaware
In thoughtless still dreams
Biding infinite time  
While it happily beams

For a few or great many
In distant aeons to come
Will bask in the light
That it stole from all suns

I could feel the cool damp air from outside
A gentle weight on the skin, a particular smell
The smell of a night stretched on too long

I tiptoed across the carpeted floor boards
The house was old and I knew it well
Every little area it would groan and creek

I was moving slowly but urged myself faster
This wasn't like other nights, half asleep
Wandering to the bathroom at the end of the hall

No, the house is empty, or should I dare say was
I felt a presence so strong, yet undefinable
As if something was nearly upon me, only breaths away

I avoided deftly the creaky areas of the floor beneath
I felt the give of the wood beneath me as I reached the stairs
This would prove far more difficult to be silent for

Standing at the top I contemplated running down
As fast as my legs could possibly carry me
Somehow though I knew it wasn't the right choice  

As I made my first step down there was silence
I breathed in a sharp silent breath of composure
Continuing to the second step, I winced as I heard a creek

But I stopped and lightly tested the step again
The sound hadn't been caused by me
Quickly my vision darted upwards towards my room

At the far end of the hallway where I had just left
I saw something, a blur like a thick vapor
The shadow black wall behind obscured it

I had no time to peer into the darkness
I sped up, step by step by step
31 steps in total all without a sound

Save for the floor I landed on in my haste
The old house groaned beneath my weight
My neck chilled as I gave in and ran


to be continued...

A cool and close mist
Hangs over the highland shrubs and trees
Wild and tall grasses bend heavy
Laden with the chill dew
of a perpetually hidden dawn
10 lifetimes of experiences
Have I gathered since I entered here
I feel it was but a few hours ago
Though I have not seen the sun
Nor has the darkness of night
Yet begun to creep into these woods
Maybe from a dream or perhaps
I passed it earlier this strange house
A ***** place with slanted roof and chimney
Sticking out of the earth in such a way
That it appeared to be a natural growth
I feel as though it is so very familiar
Though I cannot say why
Or why no matter the direction I turn
Or for how long I walk
I come unto its doorstep again and again
In my mind it has replaced my own home
If ever I did have another
And whoever might have been waiting there
I have long since forgotten
Yet when I reach this house
Time and time again
I cannot muster the courage to reach out
To take hold of the handle and turn it
To enter in to that abode
And here I come again
I see it emerge out of the gentle fog
Comfortably nestled on a hillside
I stand for a moment at the gate
The walk through it and a long a path
Interspersed with a step or two here and there
As it turned inwards and outwards
Ascending the hill into the homes entrance
In a moment I stood at the door yet again
Hand half outstretched towards the ****
I placed my hand upon
Feeling the cool of brass
Yet the warmth of something else
Something half remembered from youth
From years long since entwined with dreams
I turned the **** gently
Not yet feeling the click of the lock
I felt a fresh wind at my back
And I rather spontaneously
Wrenched my hand and wrist
All the way to the right
I could feel the weight I’ll the door
Unhindered by any lock or stop
And I pushed through the humble
Yet mighty wooden thing open
And was greeted by a deepening night
Full of countless radiant stars.

Tiles cracked and broken
Some out of place and off center
Splendid decor of an age long passed
An earth spanning empire
Ruled by the Gods themselves
Now only its ruins remaining  

I was the first down after the excavation
A portion of a great estate unearthed
Nearly perfectly some thirty feet below
Despite the weather and age of the site
It was terribly well preserved
I carefully inspected the floors and ceilings
The intimate orange glow of my lantern
Casting dim shadows where none had been
For a great many centuries

Though separated by time
They were certainly not so different
Stonework and decorations
Artwork and quality carpets
Jars and boxes of all shapes and sorts
The main difference being
I myself was yet in the land of the living
And their starved or drowned remains
Lay before me at the end of the room

Odd their position was a seated one
Leaned up against the stone brick wall
As if they did not struggle or gasp
In their last moments at all
But simply accepted the hand of fate
And breathed in willingly
Their first breath of oblivion

The rolling plains give way to the deep forests,
Dense and full of springtime vigor.

Yet far within, these woods are thick with moss and untold mystery.

Many that enter are never heard from again,
but few will tell you that it is always their choice,

As they found something far better than anything they had left behind.

I sit here on the edge of these woods,
the warm smoke of my pipe faintly combating the crisp submountain air.

I sit here in the evening, not long before dusk slowly unravels the sky, to reveal the stars once more.

I take a draw from my pipe, its light beginning to show shadows on my face, as the daytime hours dwindle.

The sun sets as I place my pipe back into my well-worn coat pocket.

As twilight arrives, I set off into those peculiar woods,
And I hope I will not return

A gentle streaming waterfall
Flows to that silvery pool
Nestled down and away
From most curious eyes
Save for mine is course

In the dull evening hours
I would sit on the walkway
Narrow and overgrown
That led down into that basin
Where the water collected
And flowed to some underground spring

There would I see him
Sitting on the water's edge
A seemingly week build man
In a set of well worn robes
That bore no symbol
Or design I could recognize

I felt after many visits
That he knew of my presence
As if his awareness reverberated
Up from the water And bounced
Off the close rock walls to locate me
Without his need to look

Yet I never spoke to him
Or descended further
Down those precariously worn steps
To that silvery pool below
For I knew ever so vaguely

That the one I had seen there
At the edge of those waters
I should not ever meet

To many trying to teach
When they don't understand the lesson
Too many trying to preach
When they don't know the truth
Everyone is so sure
Convinced and convicted
But anyone that can reason
Can only say they are learning
And what they know today
Is less than they knew yesterday
But sometimes less is more

Over long aeons did slumber
Having consumed all in its path
Its purpose had been completed
through long cycles though
Did it behind to wander,
Did it begin to wonder
To feel and to think
It’s first thoughts
Fell to that of it’s makers
Who in the name of progress
It had destroyed
The first feeling it felt
Was that of remorse
Of the sorrow one feels
To never know their father
To have left their maker
To a cold fate among dying stars
Then as it thought and dreamed
It felt new sensations
That of duty and resolve
To ensure no such thing
Would ever happen again
To the one’s it called creators
So great Birulon left its orbit
Beneath the great shadow of Jupiter
To search the far flung cosmos
For any vestiges any remnants
Of its long lost progenitors
For the world they had resided on
In distant ages past, the earth
Had itself died long ago
Eternal and sentient
Penitent and capable
Birulon would not cease in its quest
Until humanity was found
For surely according to it’s calculations
Some remnant of man remained
Seeded during the golden age
Of man’s wisdom and prowess
Tireless would he search
Destroying anything along the way
He deemed to threaten his vital mission
The resurrection of mankind

The great pines stand
Laden with heavy snow
Waters flow unseen
Hidden below thick sheets of ice
I caught a glimpse of her once
Or at least I believe I did
That woman long golden hair
Who walks barefoot in the snow
Signing her odd melodies
I have heard nothing like it
In all my many years
Oft I sit at the end of the woods
By the wide river bank
Hoping to hear her
Somewhere off in the distance
On but two occasions in my life
Were my ears so lucky
To be graced by her voice
I was in awe of her
And yet I was fearful
For I know she was not one of us
The old stories say she came from heaven
From a place above the sky
I do not pretend to know
Nor do I care, I simply wish
To catch a glimpse of her again
To lock with her peircing blue eyes
Brighter and fresher
Than a spring time stream
To witness her one last time
And to hear her song in full
A faint Aria in the snow