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Ilia Talalai Aug 26
What is important to thee?

Be it thine own peace,
                           pure and sacred
Be it thy sweet rest,
                           sacred and pure

   Be it that thou dances,
       prances and sings,
through the fabrics of thy years
               with grace

Be it Love
                            ­           and sacred

Forgive thine fledging wisdom for its yearnings.
Its growth is tragic.
o'er slow.
Its pace bringing suffering  
long before the light of clarity can shine on
what thy dreams do say

One cannot dream this shell of existence anew
without breaking skin.
Cuts and scorns will bleed your soul
           like a life laundering leech.

Yet will heal you in kind
                - and oh, what mysterious kind it shall be

Harken to this old oak voice:
Through those bleak and dark nights
        with passionate patience
        and marveling whys,
Each tender breath,
                           sacred and pure

Time will mend thy fragile frame.

and lest you worry too oft
(and sleep too little)

Harken well the billowing breeze,
as to thou I say:

                Your heart will rekindle,
             Set ablaze by a truth learn'd

                     ­           sacred
Ilia Talalai Nov 2018
Ere I ne'er saw such wonderous beauty that rests before me now:

Bathing in the calm cool shallows of a raging waterfall
Her essence is divine surrender

With hair as black as night
And eyes of gleaming moonlight

A set of pearls match her milky skin-
A gift from days spent basking
Under the gray day sky

Though naught shrouds her delicate curves
She is gracefully clad by moss and rock

The misty trees nourish her vibrantly hued lips
As the wind feeds her breath

Dear Love,
          ...All the world is thine
               And from thee all its magic shine...
Ilia Talalai Sep 2018
when you meet me...
                                     hush my love,
don't tell me that this depth
                               makes you afraid.
that my voice is like a siren 
                           singing on an ocean of words.
a whirlpool
pulling you under
where no light can shine with grace.

your crashing heart
is for you to cherish tenderly.

in my arms,
                  you will cyclone to the very
                                                               b­ottom of your soul.
my arms
              are here to hold you
                                            while your heartship
                              splinters and cracks
              on its spiraling
downward journey.

in my arms,
you and I will feel it all.

and when it is all over,
when stillness prevails...

from the crumbling shipwreck you
will be born anew.

a mermaid swimming through the ethereal waters of her soul.
Rising up,
                                to break the surface
                                 drinking her first
                               sweet sip of salty air...

searching for the land
she once remembered
in a time now lost.

when you meet me...
tell me that my arms are as vast as the horizon,
that they are the very water you breathe
holding you through all your waves and ire.

when you meet me...
tell me that my eyes are like the night sky,
that their depth holds the whole universe
within a twinkling facade.

when you meet me...
                                when you meet me...
                                                           ­      when you meet me...
Ilia Talalai Apr 2018
Her energy is amorously wavering
and clad in frail courage

she is bent over me
as I lay waking in the moonless warm night
I am returning through
the confused gateway of the dreamworld
where visions of another world seize
my mind with addlings
of nonsense and responsibility.

my eyes open to
   skin gleaming
        in the perfect starlight
            and flowing hair
                framing soft cheeks
                     and crystalline eyes

She is slowly and carefully drawing her hand across my ear
gliding through the wheat fields like a whispering wind
she grasps firmly the nape of my neck with a timid hand

within it,
a guiding intention
I dare not effect.

She lowers her head to nuzzle her nose against mine
her hair veils us both in a canopy of golden strands
as she moves ever closer to
the portal of my breath
the sinuous treasures
tickle my neck and cheek
sublime and demure, her lips slide across mine
a momentary grace before the hesitation
pulls her back
inches from my face

            I feel the cool wind of her life draw in
                             the fluttering I feel
                   is the gentle quaking of her lips

we dance
as our lips explore
the fragile mirror in the other.

Our breath escapes from the corners
where we have yet to embrace one another

as time stretches, so too the space between
what was inches feels like miles
as the ocean of energy ebbs and pulls within

with an effort that is palpable
she dives deep into the dark cove of my mouth

lips, firm and bubbly, greet a mouth inviting
tongues crash, thick and moist

all her nervous hesitation vanishes in an instant
like an explosion of Monarch butterflies... She is
All passion and delight,
I feel her unspoken love behind all her longing and affection.

her kiss is home to me
her lips are the smooth marble floor
that dissolves in to a bed of plummage where I lay my soul to rest.
It is my being, simple and supple, that transforms them to
naught but softness.

so magnificent, that first kiss
so fleeting her bouncing firm-smooth lips  
I doubt I will ever feel anything as vibrantly
unique in this world.

The threshold of our home has been crossed
what was hard and piqued with anticipation
is now soft forevermore

i will never forget that alabaster kiss.
our first kiss was beautiful and powerful
i was at the confused threshold of the dreamworld
it was late and warm when I awoke to her presence
either her touch or her approaching footfall
or her delicate scent
or her direct and amourous energy...
i dont know which i sensed first
such is the confusion of my synesthetic experience
Ilia Talalai Mar 2018
be upon your
furled brow.

may your gaze soften
with the knowledge
that there is nothing
                   left to see.

there is no sound
left to hear.

there is no lesson
left to learn.

there is only
this end.

your  ever-
                         (ing) breath.

the world draws away from you

and only You
are left...
Now! Magnificently Alone
to bear witness to
your final phenomenon.

this fleeting dance
where the sorrows endured
bare their fruits...
Now! where all those moments
have shown you the keys
to surrender.
Now!  where That door reveals itself  
to you alone

open it.

walk through it with the patience
you have collected
as cold vibrant sapphires  
from the rivers of this life.

hold onto them firm,
with one hand...
for Charon

walk through it with the courageous
passion you have burnt with
as the fiery sun
in the middle of your aged palm

hold onto it firm,
in the other...
for Charon

bring Him his fare...

Bring him the Sun in your hand
so that he may know how
radiantly you burned!

Bring him the Moon in your other
so that he may know how
freely you gave
it all away!
my grandpa died today
Ilia Talalai Feb 2018
My Lips Quake
as my mind races past
like the countryside on a train

Amorous stories painting a galaxy to explore
In that field over there
where the flowers belie a golden path
that will never be, again
and again
and again

Every passing second...

my heart rests heavy between each beat
it sighs in its eggshell seat

nestled between the
branches of this brambling tree
it yearns to break free of its gilded cage

yet every birdsong sung broken
by these bars of thought...
The pen rights itself.

The beautiful curves ****** any agency
from these brown lover's eyes
I am left- Myself

the only observer
to this raging river of tears.
I can but bask in its salty-white torrents,
Let the waves consume me until
I have lost Myself
in its primal wonder

It is this Death of Grasping
which I wrest,
it offers me
no breath
to rest

I am the studious disciple
who banes sleep
preferring to whisper
his day to memory,
While the moon paints circles
across my face

My Lips Quake
as my mind races past
with all the lessons
on this Every-day

My Lips Quake
with every remember'd beauty:
The light was new
in a day gone blooming
that will never be again
and again
and again

Every passing second
Ilia Talalai Dec 2017
The essence of love I was supposed to be
Was forged in the belly of my youth.

From a world of storied fairies
Where whales hugged the moon with their tales.

I made a seed there with all the precious metals I could find.
From the fires of my thoughts,
                                                      my sorrows,
                                                                ­              and my hopes

I shaped rare Earth with the hammer of time and watched it grow
Into a fruit whose weight I could not hold with this mortal clay.

It hangs even now from the tree of knowledge,
Like a stone on my shoulder.          

I cannot bear it...
Though I may try.

To this day, I watch it with a gleeful wonder.
I marvel at its rare beauty,

Yet in wisdom,
                     I refrain from the tireless grasping.

Idolizing this fruit of my youth offers me no boon,
       Yet the fantasy
                            colors all my days.

It hides within the smiles of each glinting eye I gaze,
Behind every sensuous touch
                                           and between every honeyed embrace.

This innocent story twists my words with un-realities
that promise more than what there is...

                      In the light of presence...

Who could have know that the embodiment of love
                             (We truly are)
                      Could be so magical?

We walk through a world where Angels sing hymns
That open the gates of heaven with their dulcet tones.

Where our open hearts beat in time
                                                       with our embraced beloved.

Where our eyes are incandescent windows
                                                      into the universes of our souls...

And every breath can be sipped like gold ambrosia.
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