I remember the first time we met
It was a night I never will forget
I politely asked you if I was the
One you wanted or really needed

In telling me you proceeded...

I need some time
To think it over.
It will be just fine
Come October.

The days progressed
And so did we
Love became you
As did it for me

And in telling me you conceded...

I need no time
To think it over
Everything is just fine
It is October.



But problems arose as
Will happen
We drifted apart
And you asked what would
Happen

And I responded then...

I need some time to think it over
"Maybe" it will be just fine
Come October.

I have traveled these fields for days,
            watching the sun shine in an angels hair and the fall
                    of rain upon her face.

When she smiles I can feel her glow,
                     but where she takes me I don't know.

Because every day it's something new,
                          I sometimes feel so cold and turn so blue

If God would send a sign,
              I could tell if my love for her is just a waste of time,
                            or perhaps it's all a figment of my imaginative mind,
                                 and she doesn't know that I am alive.

Flighty lover, angel bright with colored light so warm, no other earthly creature has your harmony of form, nor could they nightly enter my haunting dreams-repeatedly reborn-as they hath tonight and every night since you didst leave me forlorn.

Yes, it seems my confident belief in thee was a fallacy, for you didst always intend to leave me as sad as one in mourning; your heartless ways being of a mystery tending to deceive.

You tell me in a distant voice annoying that you wish to come back to me, but in my hapless time of need, you once again would surely dissever our bond in the morning.

As in the verses of Isaiah 6,
to me came a fiery serpent bearing bliss.
One to us known to be
in the highest order of the holy angels;


and she possesses many an eye,
and wilt one day have humankind
beholding her pent wingtips;


and she shall cleanse thy unclean lips
and purge thy sinful souls
with live burning coals
   -hereby as in the days of old.


God to Isaiah once told,
"I will take from man all but a tenth of their cities,
and the lands will be burned again and again
until the trees shall cast their leaves,
and thereof the substance shall be the holy seed."


Thereafter, her seraph wings did thence open
up-unfold-to be thereby a cause, a love, a flame to need.


Faith is not a thing made up, and hardly is newfangled,
but I saith she therewith displayed it all; and it was
nothing short of supreme blessedness!

Then I beheld her e'en brighter, with showy spangle, and her
attire, a pristine impressive dress that was beaming, lit, bright
with color,  and with shapeliness of contour.


Her shining light like refractory gold, or peerless bits of silver:
and something unknown did glint from within her,
to wholly then bewilder.


Her fire sword was sheathed, and I did most forward enter.


Now with a shy wing shield so still, she can still our meanest ire,
for all must therein endure
what we feel for each and one another;

and none therefore can trust mental anguish to be dull in this,
our loneliest and darkest hour.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~­~
Therewithal, loyal followers, actions shall follow words.
So ignite if you will the glowing candles, and play upon your lyre,
but not upon His word  -and forevermore you will have your needs fulfilled, with hearts afire; rest assured.

We shall hear ye but not understand, the great forsaking
in the midst of the land, we see but do not perceive!

Now hear her pure emotions entire thereat swear to inveigle yet,
our lives so chaotic, so disordered, but we can be rekindled
by a moving fire of an unstained non-object that is hypnotic and of
a fervor I foretell, to be higher than all other seraphim in
the ultimate choristers choir.

And she does as e'er sing so well, the fairest hymn to Him
   -being gentle and the most melodic.

She is a being disentangled, henceforth being the nearest
being of any angel by far to the safety of God's hands.

She's an angel that much more the nigher to His protection
and His guidance; and free will I suspect was denied her
in all but her affections.
And for that reason I suspect it will be she that to me He will send again.

And to Him I heard it said, "H o l y,  h o l y,  h o l y,   is the Lord of all hosts:
the whole earth is full of His  g l o r y!"

And with that, the Lord by Word shook again the doorway posts, and the house that filled with smoke, now is before me, such as is our Savior surely upon His throne.

The
      glorious
                     Autumn
             once
brought
              
                      to you

feelings of bliss,
                                     from the September equinox

to the December solstice.

                                     That was before your growing battalion,
                                                                   when enemies so valiant
                                  scorched the earth
                                                   and your sovereign waters lay drained,    
desiccated into little worth.


Thereof shadow soldiers
                                          still conformed
                                                                     to forest floors in
                                          a trampling train,
hiking, sleeping in the cold and rain,
                                    each with bated breath,
while the stone-dead wept;
                          their wings lifting them
                             silently from the locus of their death.

Do you now remember
                                                        your first risk taken
                upon a path
  newly splashed
                                       with a subdued
                                                                                 but steady light,
that threw it's rays across your world
                                                          in the pale dim night?
                          
                                                    You could get that feeling,
that appreciation for ev'ry moment back,
                                    
                                                                            and still survive any
                                                             attack;
just hold steadfastly in your might
                       and be ready to live under a pact of peace,
                                                                                         or to turn and
                                              
                                                         FIGHT!

There is a certain elegance in lines,
a grace that attracts the eyes
to that which is cloaked within the
echoic mystery of an ever clever guise.

All that is knit
from the fabric
of a most frantic                  
                                       ­     illusion in space,

borrows movement
                 from a riddle,                          
       poised in a mostly empty place.


It enchants the mind like a diorama
                                                         ­     hung
                                                       ­               upon the
                                                                ­                   fiber optic
                                                           ­                                         sky,
with pictures of the thoughts behind
           the artists telescopic ><><><><><><   eye.


Our      surreal      desires    are    drawn    boldly
  ­                                              from the breathing palette
                                        of a bright reality,
                                   with living loving strokes
                               that portray our very substantiality:

and never will it betray
          the flaws
           in neither an other worldly
symmetry,
                                               nor the immense complexity
of some alternate geometry.

A pearl of rain
In the eye
Of an inveigling
                 Flower glistening,


The immense untamed
                             Woods lending the umbrage of an array of native trees,
The dynamic ardor with which the songbirds sing,
                        And the caracole effect the wind has on the branch and It's showy leaves;

And in ev'ry region upon the knoll,
A new pageantry to see

                  ---All this I value more than gold,
                         And keep for my mind's
                                           Anthology.

While the hosts of Heaven,
above the arching skies,
thus did celebrate in verse,
to me in solitude had been
                              born            the      infan­t           Sorrow
that I allowed in by reason of
indifference.

It was a time-adapted
expression that gave to me also despair
and frustration as I stood in the doorway
of my                              troubles                      wit­h         my       arms         akimbo.

But the attendant spirits saw              the cataract burst forth from my eyes....
                        They smiled gracefully     

                            -and I gave myself up to laughter!

A strange cruel eidolon often glides thru my silent room, then slinks away dry and smooth as that daystar punches through my window pane -like daggers of wakefulness to pierce my dreams once more; and layers of consciousness likened to pale dead skin,  to lay bare unwanted awareness of a world too embarrassed to open up that stained and hollow door.

Streaming images on my mind's eye are outstretched,  like the gossamer threads of a silver web, woven taut, near a hypnotic light, to draw the uncanny moth, feeding the ravening host tonight.

Nightly visions driven by restless fantasies most phantasmagorical, scream and shout in palm-muted half-tones  fluttering as the matrix of horrors, divined thru an oracle, haunt that same silver death-bed...  one that reaches out and frightens me like   a shape-shifting ghost, (alight and deplorable.)


Though it's all in my head, it's still     all    too     horrible!