A woman stands with her dearest flame
as he looks towards a view of deeper high seas
with his eyes brightening in their pale blue colors
while the pearly foam touches their feet,
pairs of hands touch one another in a silent coveting
for an hour of rest to last till they never part in their
heavenly altar, indeed, chords may toll for an opera of
the cosmos, although he still meets her sight
with his fervor in rise as carnations in waking gleam in
slower motion whilst their gardens of tenderness
come alive amongst the wastelands in a way that
is potently lucid and enchanting.

The cold bodies rustled through the golden leaves of the forest as the young vampires Aleksandr, Lev and his sister Ana along with a handful of rogue vampires were searching for prey and the night was dark as the vampires hunted. They traced the prey’s scent until Ana raised her voice behind him, "Alek!", a lone werewolf lunged upon him as he opened his fangs to strike the werewolf with a fanged scratch to his muzzle, the werewolf then winced before vanishing into the woods as his brother Lev came up next to him and murmured “that was too close to the sun” as Ana agreed, “we were fortunate to have not killed the werewolf” and Aleksandr understood their words, for he knew that if he had slain the werewolf then the vampires and werewolves would enter war.

The gusts of wind had blown back Aleksandr’s long, wavy light ash blond hair as the group had returned to the cabin by the elder trees blanketed with green moss and were known by their branches that twisted, cascaded then descended as life and death itself. While the vampires spoke in the cabin, he walked out and started the path to the stream while his muscled arms lightly swayed to the music of the crickets in song. The stars shone as he reached the familiar waters, Aleksandr then heard the soft wings in flight approaching him as he witnessed his fairy companion Hilaera in flight towards him, he widened his scarlet eyes that sunk into the light of the moon as he smiled gently at her and called, “You have arrived at last, my beloved”.

Hilaera held her vampire close to her as he felt her scent of jasmine, wild berries and herbs, Aleksandr then ran his hand through her soft dark brown hair as her warm, magical light had floated upon them in their unity. As time had come to pass while the light of dawn slowly crept, Aleksandr sensed Hilaera’s flower-perfumed embrace in her kiss before she whispered to him “Often I muse, what do I mean in your heart, Alek"? The vampire glistened in his eyes and murmured, “You alone are love, that is the rose of beauty and thorns”. The two lovers felt the golden light falling upon the earth and Aleksandr was compelled to leave before he whispered to his lover, “Our goodbye is never forever” to which she returned in her magical voice, “Yes, for you are the moon to my petals as I am reborn in your arms” as they parted ways through the forest, for the sun awakens the earth and the moon lies in waiting for the lovers.

Often, I yearn for the visitor of my destiny to come, I am often astray in myself at how he will ask, “doesn’t the scent of the night’s cool air after rain feel entrancing with jazz music?,  I walk upon the grass as the moth heralds it’s sudden appearance before vanishing, I envision him in my mind’s eye arriving gentler than velvet wings before myself in the meadow of white flowers carrying the stars lustre, they behold their floral gaze upon us, the two mortals who cradle each other in their arms as he softly speaks to my ear, “oh songbird, hold the music box of my soul dear, it plays the notes of my heart for you” to which I would remain calm, for I could not find my voice to return his treasure of symphonies, I would linger in this phantasm, though for now I am savoring the sun’s first light over the verdant heights.

The writer of songs wishes to compose for his lover yet to come,
he asks the night if she will come as a floret in the wind
to caress him as a candle’s light, the lyrical harmony of
his beloved is clearer than the shower of the spheres
upon the deep violet petals, he rests into slumber
as a dreamlike vision appears of her hands softer
than velvet in motion upon the strings of the mandolin,
the gazes of him and her rivet as the one, gentle hymn of their souls,
he harrowly arouses then walks to his thistly rose garden, revelation
arrives to him so he returns home to begin the inking of the symbols
on the music sheet papers, through his symphonies, he
resolves to tell the endless fables of love and tragedy.

Humans
brush past
one another
in the shifting
colors of the
city lights,
the droplets
fall from the clouds
of time
as though
touched by
starlight, and
even love arrives
by fate for the
people who
are not it's
seekers.

He sails in his day dreams as the foaming crest crashes stars on the shore of his mind, whilst resting his gaze upon the lanterns of the night sky that are brightly akin to the songs untold by his lips, the quivering murmurs in the cosmos are in motion with poetry, thoughts, jazz and coffee, in the place of his solace, darkness is only the prelude to the arrival of the rising sun on the roses softer than velvet and the voyager.

The old man
looks upon
his grandchild
and thinks to
himself, "How
wondrous was
the fleeting days
of innocence",
the child looks
to her elder with
a passing thought
as well, "even when I
am old, my youth
shall stay forever", she
holds his hand while
they walk together
under a rising sun
as the waking in a
dream, the pages
of time are in tide,
opening in light
and dark for
forever and a
day.