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on the verge of wilderness
imminent silence*

welcome
the sun stroking
peaks aglow
the thundering falls
mist-kissed rain
the solitude
so rarely reached
too often breached

stillness loosen
untamed words
in the native tongue
before thoughts
unspoken
became yours
mine
ours

to the wild
bear these
cryptic symbols
scrawled on
my halved heart
tokens of longing
succor
for the lost
Saw  a  obituary  in  the  newspaper
of  a  long  lost  friend.

I,t  hit  me  off  the  page.
Like  an  arrow  through  my  heart.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK  2016.
Is it true what the scientists say
That life on earth will end one day?

I guess that they are probably right
There'll be no day, there'll be no night

The ozone layer is full of holes
Rising temperatures melting ice floes

Will we perish in enormous Floods?
The thought of it just chills the blood

Or will earthquakes bury us out of sight
Will fire devour us without a fight?

Storm and tempest, some folk say
Will make us kneel in final prayer

The forecast? Now  I'll give you mine:
It will end in two thousand and seventy nine


Keith Wilson            June 25 2016
I feel you in my hands
Clutching your hip bones,
Clinging to your arm,
Wrapped around your fingers.

I feel it.

I see you in my mind
Watching you walk the room,
Seeing you smile at me,
Looking at your eyes, your lips.

I see it.

I know what you want.
Forever with me,
Together with me,
Both of us as one.

I know it.

I feel you.
I see you.
I know you.

And it's all there.
And it's all together.
And it's all tucked away.
Filed under "what if?".
I'm sorry.
I love you
like an eternally expanding universe
seen with the clarity
of a thousand Hubble telescopes
your swirling galaxies
artful nebula
tranquil skies
your solid core

I love you
in molten tongues
calling from the void
two nuclear souls
colliding
every atom undone
fused together
to make one

I love you
until the thread is cut
my free-falling light
so high on your atmosphere
reshaped by your gravity
a meteorite wish
sweet ashes
to your dust
*In Teutonic mythology, the soul is a star attached to the ceiling of the sky with a thread spun at birth by Fate, represented as an old crone.  Fate cuts the thread at the end of a life and the soul falls, becoming a shooting star.
Faces of the sun
Fill the halls
Eyes that shine
Six feet tall
Run and play now
The summer calls!
If I could
be transported
right here
right now
beyond physicality
to enter your sphere
just beam on in--
like science fiction
I would press myself
into your burning
let the pain
be seeped
with coolness
let it soak right
in pour up
slowly,
in ever-thorough
waves of prisms
Put out
the white hot sear
that has taken
up residence
in your being
Smother the smolder
to release
some peace
Extinguish those
flames of poison
sheer scorch,
that gnaws
like an
invisible predator
sets ablaze
the skin
to gas-lit torch

As it is,
I am quite
powerless
but for the purity  
of my spirit,
my highest love
And I let it rise
to permeate
your very essence
from deepest below
to realms above
I am with you until the end of heartache:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JiDnB-CrrNs
black-bellied sandgrouse
leap
from
the
cliffs of clouds
drift
into
Egyptian blue sky
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