A girl
had seen
the once
hidden
stars before
her eyes,
as small
as they
were,
they saw
a refuge
in the place
she called
tears,
soaring
in the
night, she
gently
lands in
the garden
of the moon,
she had seen
every petal
as a word of
poetry, a
cinematic
scene,
the flowers of
her becomes
a guest within
the heart,
they asked,
“how did
you know
of our
secrets?”
to which
she says,
“I am
love and
so are
you”.

The poet
of the night
closed her
eyes, and
dreamed of
little stars
as details
in the small
moment of
beauty she
beheld, as a
painting
once hidden,
now coming
alive before
her eyes, as
wondrous
as when
she had
first
met the
pages
of a book,
and held
them
more
dearest
than the
petals of
a flower
held close
to her
heart,
forever in
bloom.

We look
upon the
the flowers,
thinking,
“I was once
you, before
my eyes
were known
to your
bloom”
the wind is
lifting the
petals
gently as
wanderers
of the sea,
the night
falls,
us and
them
are as
blinking
stars,
floating
almost
endlessly,
unaware
of the
lights
we give,
and yet,
unwavering.

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 truth.

Little
flowers
opened
as you
kissed me
lightly,
the petals
under the
moonlight
dance,
we wore
the robes
of the stars,
and gazed
upon the
tides, we
wondered
how they
beheld
a dream,
always
there
as the
sea of
our
arms,
gilded
in silver
scales,
returning
to a
home
where
you keep
these
hands of
mine
close, be
delicate,
for you
hold my
heart
and
yours.

If only
I was
able to
open
your
skin,
healing
the wounds
you hold
deep in
you with
the touch
of my
hands,
for now,
I only
possess
these
words,
but, do
you not
see?
even
they are
not enough,
only you
are.

While
drinking
tea by
the sea,
I travel
forever
when
I close my
eyes, and
become
the soft
waves of
memory,
whiteness
becomes
the pearls
of reverie,  
I will
return
as I have
always
done,
I forget
the dew
falling from
this heart
of mine and heal.

Walk in
the garden
of the moon
as a lover,
the flowers of
you becomes
a guest within
the heart,
it does
not ask
of how
you bloom,
but, of how
you became
the home.

The flowers meet as the  
words of thought, the
leaves touch in the
wind, here, you share
the little poems of the
earth with me, I hold
you close under the
sun, we are in each
other arms as a
blanket in a place
where we will both feel
safe and untorn in the
warm amber glow, healing
our sore souls in our gentle
sleep, I will say to you in
silence, “the answer of your
existence is my home”.

When you see something truly
beautiful, time becomes one infinite
moment infracted in a million
particles of light within your eyes
In the beauty of silence, you feel and
hear everything come alive, when
you see the smallest details come alive as
delicate, blooming flowers opening for
the awakened heart opening itself for the once
unseen, tonight, a little miracle happened,
I looked up and i asked
within my mind, "oh night,
why is it i cannot see a light
in your dark sea?" then,
suddenly a star appeared
before my eyes, and the soul
within me allows it’s
windows to open so the
light could shine through.

A fairy
who
only
flew
under
the fall
of night
met her
lover
under
the songs
of stars
in choirs
of light,
they rest
under
the petals
of a white
rose, her
lover asks,
“how can
I find words
to paint
beauty
with my
lips?”
to which
the fairy
says to
him,
“why do
you feel
the will
to open
your
lips?
all that
slumbers
awaken
when
the eyes
alone find
beauty”
they
gaze
upon the
white
lanterns
of the
dark
in a
ripple
of tides
in the
leaves,
the wings
of a bird
drifting
as a
dream in
awakening,
the fairy
rises with
her lover,  
amongst the
moonflowers
and violets
above,
they flew
by lunar
guidance
towards
a field
of indigo
shades,
they descend
and softly
rest upon
the yellow
hearts,
the fairy
turns to
her lover,
and says,
“the
leaves
sing as
our own
tale, in
symphony
with the
delicate
branches
of our veins,
we lie
here and
hear the
music we
once had
sought to
hide, we
wished to
write about
it, rather,
we closed
our eyes,
for the ones,
as us, who
tightly
caged
their  
words are
the ones
with the
deepest
wells of
feeling,
we are
living,
breathing
oceans,
clothed
in skin,
living tiny
moments
of poetry
every
hour,
don’t
you
see
this?”
to which
he says,
“I do,
and here
it comes,
the
golden
light”
it arrives,
in touch
of all that
it sees,
and the
fairy
whispers,
“let us
sleep,
and
return
as specks
of time”
they close
their eyes,
the bird
rests upon
a lone
tree,
the peace
of the
Idyll, in its
picturesque
eternity,
still prevails.

Dunes
fall on
the shore
of skin,
a poet
closes
her eyes,
in a place
beyond
our own,
the sands
felt soft
upon her
hands, her
thoughts
as water,
in wonder
if they
are
here,
or in
dream,
the grains
of time
under
lights
of the
moon
are her
tides
upon the
sand
hills
of the
stars,
the
guides
above
hold the
hidden
songs,
heard only
in silence,
clouds
emerge, the
monsoon
of spirit
chants
the words
of the
writer
painted
in rain
upon
pages,
dew falls
upon the
palms,
the poet
gazes
upon the
skies, her
hymn is
heard,
“are you
near,
or the
breath
of mine?”,
the winds
rise, the
desert
calls,
“are
you I?”

A song lasts forever once it is held
as a secret found, arriving with
these words, “seek me not when you wish
to find me, you will adrift to my embracing
arms unknowingly, whether in leaves as pages,
stars as eyes, flowers as hearts, the floating
petals as the lover’s touch, the words we share
as the moon drifting the waves, I seek to
be the one that touches you as the stars in their tides,
the soft lavender dancing in the wind and carrying
the aroma through your hair, nature allows you to see
the light silently glowing in others, the steps of people
are as the fields soaring under a zephyr wind,
your hands reach for the skies, I return to you as your
origin, as the fragile and deep bud waiting to be opened
as the others, whom, as you, await the sunlight awakening,
seeker of truth, look no farther than the bird upon
your palm, singing a prayer of home to be
created wherever you may roam, whether it is
in the fields of flowers or in the beyond
of you and I.

A sensitive
little white
flower,
opens
her
petals
by the
opening
of lunar
light,
seeking
to heal
others
as they
lie in their
dreams, she
whispers
to them
within
their
hearts,
“hear 
these
words, 
and 
allow 
me 
to take 
care 
of you, 
allow my 
petals to 
heal your 
wounds, 
I will gently 
touch your 
tears and 
dissolve 
them 
within 
my own
heart”
the soft
wind
tousles
her, the
butterfly
touched
upon the
flowers
heart,
“tell
me the
secret
to flight”
the fragile
one asked,
it flew
again
into the
nightly
hour,
she felt
a dew,
she
looked
up and saw
the florist,
who
sung
to her,
“the
secret
is love,
where
it is,
there
is flight”

I dream as a flower,
opening in waves
as the pages of a book,
I bloom between dreams
and reality while in
sips of tea, the people
who walk past, they too,
are beings of water in the oceans of
the mind and are 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,
the depth in the quiet longing
and the secrets of love lead
I, the writer, in my wish to sing, “all the
unsung is, by the sight
of the heart, sung forever”,
so then, all the things
they behold become
as they are, wondrous.

They had once been here
before, beyond the light years
that are still in the calm silence
of the dreamscape where came the
oceans of hearts are fracturing the
fabric of the universe, to create
and see none other than
each other in the hour
of the night realm, others
are passing by are silhouettes
in time and ghosts painted
in their dream of tidal eyes
upon each other, wave on wave,
skin on skin,  their breath vanishing into
the quiet voices of blue flowers in soft
bloom, tears from the stars cascade on the
lovers with their hands in gentle
embrace and rising to the sky as the light
of fireflies return as starseeds
of many, twinkling amidst the
the lovers, whom are adrift in
everything,
everything.

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 had
wished
to write
for the one
I cherished,
If only
I had
known
of how  
expression
of oneself
was not
as simple,
to paint the
complex
nature  
of human
feeling and
thoughts in
written form
could not
possibly
be only
held,
for they
are the
clouds
of my
esse
in flight,
even if
the words
were
written,
they remain
unwritten
as the
pages are
endless,
as the  
eyes of
the one
I see
as mine,
I sat
by the
ocean,
the
lantern
of the
sky
rises,
the one
I loved
now
sings,
I ask not
when he
gives,
tears
fall
for the
one
who
was
there
before
my lips
spoke
his name,
always.

He observed
her closely,
long enough
to see the
emotion
and raw
human in
her eyes,
he was the
one to hold
her hand when
the heart fell
apart, as the
moon went into the
bed of the sea,
he held her closer
In his blanket,
as she wept
close to his
chest, he told
her these
words,
“close your
eyes and sleep,
the sun will
rise, and the
world will
change
for you
tomorrow,
as the
petals
opening
every
season
to meet
the love
of the sun.”
In silence,
the lovers
then slept,
as the night
sang it’s
clandestine
symphony,
the heavens
whispered
her voice,
“would you
write on
your palms
the words
of how much
I love you?
If only you
knew of the
butterflies
coming
alive in
these eyes
when you
speak of
my name
with your
smile of
dimpled
stars,
In dreams,
you will
dance
with me
tonight,
as we
come
and go,
with the
lights
swimming
In our eyes,
more lucid
than our
musing,
the lines
and faults
of who I
was fade
Into the
warmth
of your
arms
as the
wings
of a
angel,
I, the
flower
of the
desert
who
waited
for the
gardener,
found
the soft
of your
breath,
I asked
for a drop
when you
gave me
the ocean,
I am forever
grateful to
you, the salvation
whom has shown
how I will love
once more.

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.

Do not pity the
flower that has
died, it will bloom
once more, as an
ephemeral moment in life
you held dearly, in truth,
you were unaware of
how it always
returned.

The little
flower was
content,
safe from
the winds
of the world,
then, the days
sprouted her
body upwards
to the sky,
she found
it tiresome
to grow while
the poet
of the world
painted the
leaves
golden
to green,
finally, she
can gently
sing for the
clouds as
life became
greater in
color and
beauty,
until the
white blanket
of heaven
takes her,
and, she
is reborn
in some
other time
and place.

Am I
here,
or am
I in
your
tidal
stars
of my
eyes,
seeing
your
light
in the
little
skies
joining
leaves,
they are
not far,
rather,
they
shine
near
as my
own,
the cells
of one
cosmic
glow,
a drop
of rain
falls from
the heavens
and I catch
upon it
my delicate
finger,
the dew
cascades,
I close
my eyes
and feel
the ocean in
my hands,
in silver
scales, I
dive,
in colors
of blue,
golden
and
green,
I will
forever
dream.

Allow
me to
fly
far in
your
arms
as the  
leaves
in the
wind,
I soar
in the
tides
of the
sky,
I am
lost in
the
skies
above,
my soles
touch the
clouds,
the gaze
of my soul
has seen
and known
each thing
as you,
deep is
its song
in colors
of stars,
indigo
and
art,
I touch
the white
fields,  
and,
there
you are,
the breath
of your
embrace
opens,
I am lost,
the roses
in your
eyes hold
me close,
understand how you
take my
heart
as your  
silent
whisper
and call,
“stargirl,
awaken
in the
chests
of those
who had
never
known
of their
light”
I ask,
“how
can they
not know
of it”, to
which you
answered,
“the
broken
souls,
they seek
and know
not of how
it was
always
there”
your
words
became
my wings
opening, to the
darkness,
I cry,
“surrender!”
and all
became
love,
the only
home.

Remember,
within this
world of
despair,
to once
more
see the
beauty
of the
world,
leave
the sight
of darkness
you have
known for
so long,
and let
your feet
touch the
earth of
paradise,
you are
not the
words
they
create
of you,
hear the
call of
your soul,
and you
will be  
as the
dove
flown
free
from
the iron
cage,
white
wings
floating
as petals
dancing
around
your open
arms,
everything
I could not
tell you,
your heart
will sing to
you, hear
it well,
for it is the
symphony
of your
secret
garden,
where you
are always
loved forever.

Once upon a time,
there was a princess
named Luna, she
ruled the kingdom
of the moon, until
the queen, the former,
now elderly, ruler had
passed away, so the
kingdom disappeared
and the princess was
left to wander the
stars, her heart
was a void of
sadness after the
queen died and the
kingdom dissolved
with the mist, she
roamed the shadows
of space, until
she found a
peculiar light,
upon floating
closer, she found
the prince of the sun,
he was also sad, as
his planet was
engulfed by a
larger star, the
princess said
to him, "we are
both very sad,
so we will heal
each other"
they held hands,
feeling the power
of their hearts
glowing the
light of love,
and together,
they birthed the
new kingdom of
Luna and Sol

Under the night, I now hold you deeply, for
the sun of you heals hearts through
only your peace alone, your
the light in the touch of lips
on my skin is light as the
petals of the sky around
us, in our float, I ask
for the subtle beauty in the
midnight hours,
where dark is light
and sings, “love is
in the unseen”, for we
see each other as we are,
In all of atoms, love,
space, and time in
the touch of our
hands, you are I,
from the deep
blue rush in skin,
to the sacred,
we return.

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.

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 the little
poems
written
all for
you,
forever.

I have dreamt
of falling stars,
although the
beauty of
your heart's
tears grow
farther in
light than
the reaches
of the heavens,
will you soar
forever in the
the secret skies
of my embrace?
In this moment,
let us heal
our wounds,
for we will
behold time
in this endless
love song

‪As I ‬
‪lie on ‬
‪the ‬
‪shore, ‬
I see the
warm
amber,
orange
and yellow
sunset
‪with a ‬
‪cup of ‬
‪milky ‬
‪coffee ‬
‪and a‬
‪paper ‬
‪notebook, ‬
‪I begin ‬
‪to write, ‬
‪I am no ‬
‪different ‬
‪than the ‬
‪words ‬
‪flowing ‬
‪as rivers,
and I soar,
as the wings
of seagulls
above,
‪for my
poetry ‬
‪is the ‬
‪ocean ‬
‪of my ‬
‪heart ‬
‪coming ‬
‪in waves, ‬
‪asking the ‬
‪reader to ‬
‪open ‬
‪themselves ‬
‪to healing, ‬
‪when truly, ‬
‪I am a drop ‬
‪within the ‬
‪universe ‬
‪of my ‬
‪everything ‬
‪and all, ‬
‪the lover ‬
‪of my words ‬
‪and the ‬
‪song of ‬
‪my soul.‬

A composer
of the stars,
& astronaut
of dreams,
the unsung
swan of the
night, who
draws the
paintings
of her
thoughts,
the clouds
of dandelions
fields forever
in reverie,
her sigh settles
the seas of
lilac dreams,
as music
plays, she
enjoys the
indigo hues
of a bohemian
way of life,
and every
person
on this
earth is,
in their own
way, an
eccentric
of their
own hue,
upon the
painting of
life in the
microcosmos
to the lights
beyond, one
possesses
the traveler
in the chest,
a seeker of
the secret,
unrevealed
revelations,
a hidden
lover of
truth,
a flower
always
in perpetual
rebirth,  
the secret
dancer
of the
night,
musing
upon the
wisdom
of how
every
human
holds the
aubade
within the
intricacy
of their
silver
scales,
in the
deeper
tides
of eyes
meeting
to become
one in the
balladry
of being
within each
other’s gaze,
for eyes reveal
the drifters,
who sail in
the ocean
of words
and catch
her star-dew,
where she
hears the
hidden,
secluded
symphonies,
they reveal
the lights
of their
own as
time, the
mysterious
one, flows
her fabric
and they
grow closer
to one, she
watches
upon them
unfolding,
as she
opens
her wings,
they close
their eyes,
when two
had once
seeked
to be other
than the
truth of self,
from their
chests are
opening
butterflies,
they awaken
in their
cocoon,
awaiting
the voyage
to the
moon,
the poet
sits by his
window,
and softly
sung “all of
what the
eyes see
in bloom
is poetry”

A crescent moon

glows white

with

It's angelic

halo through

a shroud of

dark clouds,

soulmates

within the

shower of the

pouring rain,

love

Is the only

true sense

that's felt

when the

desert

Is misted

In dunes, when

the souls begin to feel

the depths of warmth

and the monsoon revives

the barren sands, and all

Is paradise.

The train
flew past us,
we were there,
waiting for our
time, until,
he walked
towards
where I  
was to
be found,
he nestled
my body
In his
arms,
I looked up,
gazing
deeply,
I Iistened
as he
said,
you are
the one
who has
not yet
known
the truth,
I will tell
you, the
one who
has been in
tears, when
you are broken,
you will always
remember,
to love who
you are
and others,
the untold
story lies
beneath,
bring the
torn fabric
and sew
your heart
back together,
you will heal,
as I have always
done, you will
forget the dew
falling, and heal,
only then, will you
see how love is
unconditional,
when you see
with the heart
rather than
the eyes,
you will
see true
beauty,
let the
lost
clouds
come
together,
hold hands
and make
them feel
special,
warm them
with your
heart and
gently
place a
tissue on
their tears,
touch their
souls and
hold them
close, how
you want to
be loved is
how people
will love you,
you will look
at the night
with them
and say, we
are lanterns
of the sky,
filling the
oceans of
the universe
with the
galaxies
in our hearts,
we are more
luminous than
we think we are,
as the butterfly
unaware of the
delicacy of its
wings, resting
under the sun,
we are roses
opening
for the love
awaiting them,
yet, these hearts
are unaware
of how they
call for their
soulmates,
not knowing
their names,
rather, the
wind was
already within
the leaves,
creating the
music they
have known
before, the
tides becoming
one, as your
hand becomes
the pulse
of this heart
of mine, I
want you
to listen
when I say,
you are a
infinite light
shining
through
the cracks,
you are,
the one
and only,
stargirl.

Her voice
is softer
than the
moon, her
countenance
is that of a
fragile
symphony,
soaring
in her violin
song,
she is the
paralian
who lies
upon the
shore
and lets
the emerald
become her
dress and hair,
In the night
ocean, she
hears the
vague
waves of
memories
moving as
light in the
revolving
lanterns of
her mind,
the rose of
time opens,
she recollects
of how she was
the hidden petals
of the library,
delicate in the
secrecy of her,
beyond the old
books, within
her eyes, where
he saw the layers
of her rose
unfold before
the pages
she turned,
it was magical,
he thought,
of how the
small things,
the sea flower
of her secret
garden,
was once
revealed
to none,  
realized
only by
the one
who saw
with the
heart,
the clouds
became
words
unsung
in the gentle
glass silk
caressing
her fair hands,
she mused
upon where
to begin and
end, as she,
the wanderer,
returned from
her dreams,
she closed
her eyes,
through
time,
jazz,
space
and
healing,
the loner
awakens
in the shore
and sails,
holding
the stars
In her coffee
& a vintage
camera,
and it
echoed
to her,
what she
once said
to her lover,
the gentle of
how they
floated as
petals
above the
lotus
ponds,
in the
touching
of hands
and the
secret
she held
in the rose,
I will invite
you to hear
it’s whisper,
“to love is to be
as the water,
to the silver
song, you
will return.”

I smelled
the sweetness
of the flower,
and asked
the gardener, what
Is the name of this
beautiful one?
he says to me
"love
has no
name"

She was
a shy, sensitive
young woman,
with small
hands and
lean, long
fingers that
beautifully
graced the
pencil as
she wrote
poetry, or
rather, the
whispers of
her heart
within her
small leather
notebook,
whenever
she became
curious, her
dark, lustrous
brown eyes
would glimmer
in fascination,
her entire world
would become you,
she was not
particularly
beautiful
but her heart
was pure,
she would
remain hidden
through her
poetry
as though
she was
listening to
classical
music,
the streams
of violins
are the
winds
tousling
her midnight
hair,
she was
a dreamer
of the night,
though
quiet
In her
demeanor,
always
deep
In thought,
perhaps
trying to
understand
and shape
you, or
thinking
about the
simple
beauty
of the
moment,
she would
see the stars
when everyone
walked past,
to appreciate
what others
could not see,
as a light
hidden
among the
leaves,
she was
the depth
once unseen,
now clear to
the one who
came closer,
she would
place her
palm on
her fair
face when
deep in
listening,
as if it
was, the
painted
portrait of a
poet,
she always
held a cup
of warm tea,
being content
In her recluse,
until she would
look into your
eyes, and
you saw
through
her
soul

All is still amongst my little waves of ebb and flow,
yet I am still as the traveler holding a luminescence
close inside as a lantern, the light through the
crevices of my soul was once the constellations,
I am in the journey to seek the ones to hold it
with those who are as swaying daisies with music
moving through their ether that is far yet near,
the snowflakes from the high mountains
fall gentle on my skin and theirs as though
they are in never-ending tales.

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.

She
wished
to write
the diary
of a flower,  
unknowing
of how the
pages were
endless,
as the
song
of her
beautiful
mind the
garden
came
forth
from,
her
soft
angel
eyes
opened
for the
eyes of
a book
within
her private
perusal,
where her
being had
came to the
embrace,
and so
followed
her heart,
the rest
came
In waves
as her
hands
stroked her
gentle
features,
her skin
was the
winter
moon,
though
not fairer
than her
deeper
thoughts
as a blue
sea with
the softer
whispers
of clouds,
her home
lyed within
the deepest
part of the
library,
seldom
wandering
to the cafe,
her heart
wished to
sees beauty
In others
veiled to
the eyes,
wondrously,
she meditated
upon the light
waiting to be
sought, the
butterfly
to touch
her palms,
eventide
fell as
she walked
through the
garden by
the moon,
hidden
with the
roses
forever,
the poet
of love who
gazed upon
a symphony
of dew-beads
as stars,
appearing
as shrines
of memory,
as the night
lights of a
universe
for only
her,
as she
gazed
upon them,
with her
gentle
voice,
she sang,
“can I call
this love,
or the words
of falling rain?”
as she watched,
with the leaves,
and the gentle
dew, opening for
love letters
untold,
her lips
touched
the petals,
and tears
fell from
her eyes,
and upon
the white
petals,
the night
sleeps
forever,
the tears
became
the far
tides
of an
ocean,
love is
the rose
of suffering
and beauty,
and the one
whom has
known it
lives forever
as a home
for others,
the nightingale
sings as her
ink flowed as
waves
upon her
papers,
where she
wandered, with
meditations upon
Monet arose
as lullabies
of a secret
world,
songs of
honeysuckle
and wisteria
brighter
than the
wings
of fairies,
the small gifts of
precious wonders
she held with all
the curiosity
in her hands,
as she
thought
to herself,
were these
lights, or
the few
thousands
teaching
her to
dance
from
within?
she reaches
the waters,
and the
delicate,
fair form
touched
the moonlit
mirrors,
where she
witnessed
the truth
beyond
words,
amongst
the tear
painted
petals, the
moon sings
the symphony
for her, “are you
the one I have
been seeking?”
as it’s light
touches her
wandering
steps, she
returns to
her home,
and in her
blankets,
she writes,
“to my lover,
I will remember
how we met
each other
as waves,
from the
lost, far
away
parts
of the
ocean,
we found
the shores
becoming
eyes, they had
sought themselves
to be lost in legions
of constellations
in the galaxies
of hearts,
with the stars
that waited
to be born,
the flecked
specks of light in
divinations of the
midnight hours,
and reminisced
the dappled
dreams of
colors and
witnessed
beauteous
musing, in
the cafe,
where our
conversations
poured
the seas
into cups
of tea, and
explored
the question
of metamorphosis
through words,
shifting time
through the
touching of
marble cups
and the colloquy
of our eyes, the
artistry in the
miracle of the
gentle, I walked
In flight with you,
as we shared the
unspoken stories
of our hearts
woven through
the rain,
under the
umbrellas
leading
to your
home,
where we
watched
the paintings
of the night
skies as the
memories
of us, the
lights
touched
by the
secret
garden,
where I
wandered”.
her hands
then closed
the pages,
and her eyes
rested upon
the pillow,
and the
moon
chants,
“O fair
maiden,
you are
the one
whose
existence
Is loved, the
nightingale
has sung to
you upon
It’s branch
near your
window,
though
fairer is
your
voice,
you are
the gentle
one who
turns all
of what
you have
seen to
artistry,
when
you love,
all is in
bloom,
la fleur
de lune.

If you are
reading this,
I want you to
trust me
when I say,
I know the
sadness you
are feeling
because
I have felt
It everyday,
I know
It's hard
being alone,
nobody sees you
and you walk alone
on the streets,
wandering,
hoping that
your heart
will be flowed
with love and
the brightness
will return to
your eyes,
time will pass,
and one day
It will, but for now,
you just have
to hold on to the
light of hope within,
It will guide you,
as a star
In the night sky,
and you will find
your home,
as a white rose,
hold your heart
unconditionally,
and the moon shall
open for it.

Have you
ever noticed
how beautiful
the clouds are?
they are the
ethereal
breathe of
dreams,
I wish, I was
not the only
one who saw
their once
hidden strokes
revealed only
to the eyes
opening for
the white
ocean,
holding
one sliver
from their
day to see
the beauty
of what they
are a part
of and
becoming
the idyll,
what they
had been
seeking
was found
in one
moment
in time,
reader,
I will tell
you now
how the
clouds
are as
the simplest
touch you
treasure,
the holding
of hands
you wish
to keep
forever,
the first
kiss you
share as
the petals
of roses
caress the
wind of the
moon, and
you will say
to your loved
one, as you
would whisper
to the clouds,
“the existence
of you is my gift”

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.

The blossoms are calm, and yet still, she sings for
the heavens within, the white heron bows to the sea water,
It sees the clouds of night touched by lunar wind, the
lucid paintings of seagrass contemplate the presence of the
poet floating upon the waters, and say to her, “you too, have wings”,  
the lights beneath her as dewdrops, bright as cricket melody, the lone lantern glows in the silent hour of all, where the artist’s senses awaken as ripples of butterflies opening, the petals in far  flight ask her, “are you I?” , her starry form is light upon the mirror of the moon, a ghost of time and being, the beauty of imperfection decorated her as the
stars, the heron asked her, “your nature is delicate as my feathers, why did you wish to hide?” she sung back “I hid because I was afraid, I loved in a world of no love, I realize now, to reveal the amygdala that lives in color is to be brave in a world of grey, to be delicate is a strength, to have tears is to have power, to paint your emotions through eyes and lips is grace, being is the greatest gift” she perceived her revelation, “I am human, in solace with both light and dark”, her hands floated upon the water, the sounds of the ocean echo the endless journey, she becomes the milky amber dream, night has turned to day, the flower of the sea has found her abode in the one whom has loved her before existence, she spoke not, for all the songs have already been sung,
the eons have spoken, softly, she folds her eyelids in the heavenly warmth, there is only her whisper, “I have returned to you when I was never lost”

Amongst
the roses,
I hear the
whisper
of unspoken
beauty, asking,
“can this be,
the one who
has lost,
found the
wonder of
everything?
how is it,
that when
it was filled
to the brim
with the tides
of love, it found
beauty in the
broken?”
I say to her,
“I have now
known how
the eyes filled
with tears
had seen
the heaviness
beheld in the
fragility of
their petals,
and yet still,
they float,
resting upon
the lips before
returning to
their dreams
In the clouds”
I watch as the
lantern returns
to the night skies,
there will come
a time, when
a rose will
fade as the
one you
hold dear,
and you will
remember,
when you
have truly
loved
someone,
their flowers
will never
fade from
the garden
of your
heart.

The sea was
a shade of the
deepest blue,
the waves,
moved by
strong winds
made thousands
of white strokes,
as if touched by
a painter at work,
a seagull, with
black tipped
wings flies
in the sky,
home to the
sun, reflecting
upon the ocean
the brightest
shade of pure
diamond,
touching
my feet,
clear and
the bringer
of colorful
stone
treasures,
I allowed the
waters to take
me over,
I closed my
eyes, within
my heart and
soul, still it
echoed,
the endless
music of the
waves, asking
for my embrace
and calling
me home

Be as the leaves
of one tree dappled
by shades of light
that are never
in the same
pattern, floating
as stardust or
leaves, dream
as a poet
and hear the
words of
small things
in existence,
they are ways
of home for
the lost one,
an elusive
dancer of
the infinite.

The waves
crash on
the shore
of the eyes,
I wished
to create
worlds with
my mind
that the
lips fail
to convey,
I observe
the drifting
journey,
as the mind
wanders to
the paintings
of metaphysic
nature, where
everlasting
stories are
found, as
I am lost
perpetually
in wonder,
on and on,
I will live
through
another,
as the dew
caressing
the endless
being of now,
the world I
had known
once cursed
me for being
a dreamer,
though I
feared not,
for the heart
of mine,
possessor
of truth,
was never
vulnerable,
tears created
the clouds
I held within
my chest,
where I
float
as the
wings of
thousand
white doves,
the cage has
fallen, I have
risen as the
one who
saw the
light in
others
when they
failed to
have seen
it within
their own
chests,
I am the
bringer
in the
garden
of words,
I am aware of
the unavowed
lost ways of
conversation,
where the
cherry
blossoms
seek the
surrender
of the leaves
within the
deepest parts
of the beautiful
mind, elusive
as the reflection,
wavering as a
chameleon,
even though,
the heaven in
my breath
will never
fade, as the
grace of the
delicate ones,
hidden to them
was the nature
of the imperfections,
forming something
so untouchably
incandescent,
I had seen
the truth,
and soon,
they shall
see it too,
I and them
shall walk
the earth,
soaring
from our
fingertips,
I will hope
they look to
the skies,
and find this
reminiscence,
where the
clouds
ripple,
angels
are near,
I will wish
for them
to see how
these words
I have written
are sacred,
for beauty
lies in
secrecy,
waiting
for you.

By the sea,
I watched as
the thoughts
within my mind
faded with the white
effervescence, I am
wrapped in a cashmere
blanket as I drink my
cafe au lait, the wind
tousled my hair as I
contemplated the
silence of the hour,
within its watercolor
becoming the gentle,
soft soul of mine
seeking to understand
the meaning of love,
even though,
I am misunderstood,
and so, I sit here,
content as a dandelion,
fragile, yet still yearning
to dream.