Mind of ice
yet a heart of fire.
To say I'm numb,
I'd be a liar.
Cold thoughts
in a broken world.
Yet warm yearnings,
a dreaming heart.
Deep proof of passion.
Proof, half frozen
you can be alive.

The explosion of ivory dogwood blossoms
sweetly assaults the eye.
The bird of the day is the mourning dove.
With their sweet relentless pecking.
I let out a sigh.
A hawk's in town today.
Why most birds have stayed away.
The perfume off spring rain arouses my soul.
Wet buds sweetly festering,
as another day I grow old.

The veiled moon emits
the strangest obscure light.
Silently awakening
the secret world of my dark delights.
Yet the tide twinkles,
blinding bright.
On the ancient shore
of my mind tonight.
Mysterious memories swirl
that have haunted me before.
As a dark euphoria sedates my core.
In the center of my soul,
exists a vaulted door.
Where the ghosts of the heart reside.
To go inside,
exposes every secret you ache to confide.
Whoever told me there is no magic
lied to my seeing, searching eyes.
The night is silent, can you hear it....
The world's dark veined ecstasies,
sustain my sparkling startled spirit.

My eyes, throbbing with agony,
bore through the window,  
desperately seeking the freedom of sky.  

To my surprise the crabapple tree  
possessed joyous magenta flowers,  
providing an unexpected  
jubilant assault of my mind.  

Lush leafy erratic branches,  
a turmoil of spring beauty  
stood in striking empathy of my silent cries.  

The afternoon sun pales the majesty of magenta.
As only love can pale agony.  
Memories live forever, is a haunting horrible lie.  
Unlike me, those magenta flowers don't need a why....

My love for her will never die.  
The majesty of those magenta flowers,  
if only for a moment, seizes and saves me deep inside.

There was a lurid green sheen  
to the ancient creek.  
Sweetly haunted by  
the secret summer reflections
of the leaves.  
The sunbeams form brilliant white ripples
on the surface of the cool languid water.  
What a perfect location for peace to loiter.  
The gliding geese pepper the creek,
a visual feast of their natural pageantry.  
I decided to just be.  
In the moment.  
In the immediate journey.
Let past and future worries flee.

Looking at the explosion clouds.
There is a complete void of sound.
The September trees
are diminishing green,
in their lazy lean.
We are not just alive,
to satisfy hungers.
To examine bruised blunders.
Nature satisfies us too.
Bombs of peace in a sky cornflower blue.

Fear has unraveled its roots,
in the dank soil of my soul.
This shadowed unknown agony,
lurks the dark country of my heart.
In places I would never dare go.  
A starless womb,  
from which black embryos of horror,
will be born.  

I launch prayers to the angels,  
but hell's laughter is wicked and loud.  

Dread.
Worse than being dead.