There was a fog that seemed to hover thickly
over the perceived salience of his musings
  
It was as if there were a veiled mystique
that left hopeful understanding ,
                   ambiguously obscured ...

His soul's cadences fell beyond the pale ,
like a reverberant iron bell’s clamor ,
                   drowning acumen ;

albeit , unmistakabe crystal clear allusions ,
scanning inwardly, rhapsody in his mind's eye

                    Illusive accord ,
                    beclouded by seeming stigmas
                    borne of the flesh ;
                    delicately sensitive nuances ,
                    misunderstood imperfections ,
                    bespoken utterance weighed heavy upon heart ...

In the hush of pensive repose ,
flow of soul streamed forth from its retreat within ;
bequeathed as if darkness
was magnetically drawn towards light ,
purging muted understanding ...

                    Assuredly seeking all questions with verve ,
                    accepting , that all answers sought
                    are not meant to be understood

A realization of those who wish to speak yet abide unspoken ;
the unseen mark of those that wished they had been loved ,
befallen the music of a thundering heartbeat ,
understanding a circle is vulnerable ,
only makes it stronger ―

                    hence ,..
                    it had been written
                    in countless misunderstood ways ...

Knowing he resists an inner-voice to endure silently
for a fear of that which remains indelibly writ ,
tattooed on introspective walls
far removed from the afterglow of light ,
where depth of soul yearns to be freed ;

                    heart speak hushed , deft words avowed
                    in enigmatic tongues ― Vayu doth whisper

                    soul's prevailing tides ebb and flow
                    from unseen depths , permeating
                    deeply within inner realms

The spirit of soul once steeped his heart’s intone :

               "Spell words that bind together passing strangers  
                 Coalesce  thoughts to inspirit those whom often walk alone
                 Append the goodwill of poetry, aspiring to bond individual
                 hearts and minds with words of love and light.  
                 Conjure written  spells to bespeak sincerely ,
                 a faith in unabated love"

and yet ,   he will write it again and again ,.. searching beyond words

…words grasped from emerging thoughts
                   drawn in to the light
                   searching for other adept words
                   to recite yet another way ,
                   sketch another word-scape ,
                   written with the relentless inexhaustibleness
                   of an unstoppable awakening ...  

Another winter dawn imbues a new day come to light

                   he will write it again and again ,

                                          ... finding another way to be set free ...



                                                          ­       Harlon Rivers

In a midwinter night’s dream
  i found myself lost again,   
  or was it even this year ?
  It may even go back farther
  than yesterdays out of reach,  
  older than an ancient pyramid stone
 
Before the rebirth of past life deposits,
  unborn orphaned motherless sediment,
  flotsam of the ages adrift,
  unknown for more than a thousand years

... waiting for so long to see beyond the bounds

High atop a slippery edge-cliff
  i clung  ―            
Searching for a deeper understanding
  of who i am;

Roosting like a starving bird of prey
  with a broken wing
  born alone ... holding on
  With a fear in his eyes
that only i could comprehend
  
  Staring way down deep in the pith,       
into an internal pitch black abyss,
  just begging to see beyond ―
  Mindful it's so hard looking
  into the eye of a storm

Intimately parsing the recurrent source
  of reigning pain
Where the perpetual fog of isolation dwells;
an inversion,     preventing dispersion
  of the nimbus  cold  and  dark

In the darkness, there bides a suffocating
  emptiness,  
  A swelling silence what loudly knells,
  leeching through a perennial ache

An abating voice within hollers unheard,
  invisible as a bitter cold wind howling
  relentlessly through the hollow pang;
  Echoing the subsiding say
(squeezed out) ... of an orphaned soul
  deep beneath the light

Awakening to realize  ―  once i was alive
  and
i could feel me holding on to you



//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Why are you weeping still, my heart
haven't you enough bled?
tears I can't bear any longer
you should not further shed--

I'm sinking, dying before my time
the flower of my youth has hardly blown
nine symphonies, six hundred songs
my 'Winterreise' and ' Die Schone Mullerin'--yet I moan

for fate has its cruelty upon me inflicted
I have so much more that does await
its glory and beauty to unfold in bright sunlight
but night descends and my life has nothing to celebrate

save the ruins of sorrows and heartaches
that all my dreams and hopes do destroy
if there were ever any redemption after I'm gone
it would be my songs that would bring me eternal joy.

To S.B./T.H.

it matters not where you meet St. Gabriel
whether on earth or in heaven    for
writ large on a person’s soul is a deepening
an aging
an inevitable annunciation that your casket of buried
fears and joylessness
is being dug by the gravedigger   an ancient
angelic presence   who keeps you safe
that you may hear the annunciation of your worthiness
to serve Love
that your immaculate conceptions are beloved
of Love
that you are the hands and imagination
of Love
and that the poetry of your life
is a chrism
an anointing     by Love,
                        for Love, and
                        in Love



c. 2017 Roberta Compton Rainwater

seen one  of life's peaks
seen many mountains
been around a few of life's
mysteries and evaded
none

I saw my children come  out of
their mother's womb
I fell on my knees
at the majesty

I was near when people close to me
passed into the next world
I've seen history be told
by wise old *****
whose days had passed 90
or 93

I have seen young die too soon
7 11 13
28

53
I wasn't there when my dad passed
I've  loved dogs
and cats children and women

Music and ages and strangers I never knew
in the distance
I see me pass
I  see the world keep on spinning
I only wish
for the chance to tell
to certify my love
hold her eternally
one time
before the end