Humans
in scales
are in
touch,
they
glide in
the waters
of the starry
skies, the dust
of nebulas
move and
dream
as clouds,
all is in
silence,
and the true
music of
love
begins.

People
seated in a cafe
are in ocean
tides of
conversation,
revealing
themselves
through
words
to one
another,
awakening
wings of
emotion
and thought,
if only humans
knew of their
light,
shining
eternal.

She is
entranced
in the little,
endless hums
of the night,
they are
soft spoken
mysteries,
gentle
whispers
in the
wind by the
poet’s pen
in stroke of
the fabric of
pages with
visions
written by
sonorous
hums of the
deep sea
arms of
the cosmos
in a flower
undying,
opening
in the eyes
of the one
who have
known
the dark
to cherish
the light,
unfading
in bloom,
she rises
from the
long,
waking
daydream,
drifted by
the seas of
the moon
to the
shore,
where
she rests,
gazing
upon
the tides
until the
sun is in
advent,
the earth
awakens,
deeper
than
stars, the
unsullied
sleep and
breathe,
they too, are
timeless.

I feel
how you
are always
there, as
ripples
in rivers,
clouds
moving in
dreams
by the
window
as the
flight of
stars,
I am
here, in
your eyes
of the
lanterns
of heaven,
I dream
as a flower
dreams
under your
gaze, it
brings me
to tears,
I wish
for you
to know of
how the
rain of the
heart’s ocean
is the beautiful
depth of the
pain of love, so
rest upon
my wings,
we shall fly in
the sky, let us
soar beyond
this earthly
realm, with
feathers
of my
words
in little
poems
written
all for
you,
forever.

The writer
is a painter
of words,
colors run
through the
ink of a pen,
within the
earthen
vessel
is the
unspoken
within,
it is as
the people
who are
in wander
on streets,
voices in
the shape
of water,
love
itself.

I dream
as a flower,
opening
in waves
as I open
the pages
of a book,
I bloom
between
dreams
and reality
while in
sips of tea,
the people
I walk past,
they too,
are beings
of water
in the  
oceans of
the mind,
visitors of
the earth,
stars are
in the words
they speak
within the
the ease
of the
midnight
hour, the
propeller
seeds lift
for the
moon in
the eyes
they held
for one
another,
it is in
presence,
the depth
in the
quiet
longing
to only
read
of the
secrets
of love
I, the
writer,
wish to
sing to
them,
“all the
unsung
is, by
the sight
of the
heart,
sung
forever”,
so then,
all the things
they behold
become
as they are,
wondrous.

I see
the roses
in you, the
delicate
petals of
of being
human,
the thorns
of us have
broken
the chains,
our feathers
glide when
darkness
once
wished
to down
the soar
of our
wings,
feathers
glide from
loud howls,
floating
up to the
place we
call as
truth.