an ethereal presence
felt long before ever being heard
energy flowing through space and time
resonant frequencies with dynamic effect

inducing within romantic chambers
a rhapsodic ocean of dance and song
a mountainous symphony of possibility
a delicate and gentle concerto of dreams

musical princess of harmonic evolution
melodic instrument for conscious healing
emanating perfect pitch whether sharp or flat
an athenaeum of inspiration and maternal lyricism

...oh, to remain in concert...

how terribly dull
what pitiful fools
who can't think for themselves
and abide all the rules

how wonderfully clever
and unequal in measure
are those brave few who dissever
themselves, from platitudinous notions, and live free, forever.

i am not who I think i am
but for a moment i was who i wish i could be

i was in class when it began
a clap of thunder and a bolt of lightning shook the sky

i walked out with my head held high
and smiled when the first droplets met my face

i laughed when a puddle soaked my shoes through and through
the feeling of clear, cold water settling on my *****, warm skin

i was by myself but i was not alone
the journey became my friend, my co-conspirator

i don’t know why i did it
but i hope that i never stop feeling it

He loved her.
And
She loved him.
But neither knew.
So when they woke up,
Together,
They thought it was a mistake,
And neither chose to be the first to wake,
And accidentally right the wrong,
So they both slept forever.

I* wept,
till my eyes were dry,
and I could feel no more.

In a statment of ,
complete numbness,
I layed in bed,
in hours,
for days,
s a d.

I wiped,
away the tears.
And my feelings ,
wouldn't stop ,
reminding me.
And those memories,
wouldn't stop,
chasing me.
And I couldn't just,
let go.

In praise of Eliza, Queen of the Shepherds


See where she sits upon the grassie greene,
        (O seemely sight!)
Yclad in Scarlot, like a mayden Queene,
        And ermines white:
Upon her head a Cremosin coronet
With Damaske roses and Daffadillies set:
        Bay leaves betweene,
        And primroses greene,
Embellish the sweete Violet.

Tell me, have ye seene her angelick face
        Like Phoebe fayre?
Her heavenly haveour, her princely grace,
        Can you well compare?
The Redde rose medled with the White yfere,
In either cheeke depeincten lively chere:
        Her modest eye,
        Her Majestie,
Where have you seene the like but there?

I see Calliope speede her to the place,
        Where my Goddesse shines;
And after her the other Muses trace
        With their Violines.
Bene they not Bay braunches which they do beare,
All for Elisa in her hand to weare?
        So sweetely they play,
        And sing all the way,
That it a heaven is to heare.

Lo, how finely the Graces can it foote
        To the Instrument:
They dauncen deffly, and singen soote,
        In their meriment.
Wants not a fourth Grace to make the daunce even?
Let that rowme to my Lady be yeven.
        She shal be a Grace,
        To fyll the fourth place,
And reigne with the rest in heaven.

Bring hether the Pincke and purple Cullambine,
        With Gelliflowres;
Bring Coronations, and Sops-in-wine
        Worne of Paramoures:
Strowe me the ground with Daffadowndillies,
And Cowslips, and Kingcups, and lovèd Lillies:
        The pretie Pawnce,
        And the Chevisaunce,
Shall match with the fayre flowre Delice.

Now ryse up, Elisa, deckèd as thou art
        In royall aray;
And now ye daintie Damsells may depart
        Eche one her way.
I feare I have troubled your troupes to longe:
Let dame Elisa thanke you for her song:
        And if you come hether
        When Damsines I gether,
I will part them all you among.