__

Where once we met,

Passion stirred breezes for winds to form,

And drenched our hearts in it's growing storm.


Like clashing clouds each enveloped the other,

Releasing energies no depression could smother.


A thunderstorm raining lightning bolts,

Shamelessly shedding light in blinding jolts.


Water and Air, spinning, mixing, churning.

The chaos was music, the eye in a hurricane of yearning.


Oblivious, we destroyed, even as we created,

Endangered life as surely as rain sustains it.


The chaos of our perfect storm turned against us,

No music now, only the raging tempest.


Winds of passion calmed, storm-fronts collapsed within,

And the last teardrops of rain fell unforgiven.


Silence stretched, louder than any thunder,

Broken, after so long, by hope barely uttered.


With care hope grows, uplifts, and inspires,

Then sings of life, and love, and of passion like fire.


Testament to life, though unaware,

A butterfly batting its wings, stirring the smallest breath of air.


Now, a field of butterflies rise from dreams and cocoons,

A thousand tiny gusts of hope, born anew.


Innocent, they move the very sky,

Fledgling winds, breezes learning to fly,


Rising high above the meadow where they were born,

Quietly whispering prayers, of becoming a storm.

____

To wallow in and under drown,

To shape a tear, to form a frown.


Exaggerations embracing pain,

They weave a spell to summon rain.


A heart to crush, a mind to flood,

And veins that throb with rivers blood.


Confusion swims where soft truth flies,

A cauldron to mix a concoction of lies.


These fires scar, yet sear no flesh,

While times slow healing turns souls to ash.

_______________

Bewitched by the charming graces of my private hell

Honesty, leave me be, that I should never kiss and tell


Soul to the winds, body to the flames

Salvation is ash, destruction a game


Spirit starving, though gorging be

Whether passion, love, or ecstasy


Only eyes am I

No hands to grasp the things I see


Only prayers am I

Never to reach the powers that be


On bliss' wings I soar upon high

A slobbering slave of darkening sky


Mind for fire, heart for dust

My remains trapped in a body in lust


The master plans the subjects scheme

The circle of life, the cruelest theme


Only eyes am I

No way to catch the tears that fall


Only now am I

Too late to save one from the fate of all


At the end of my rope I dangle and twist

Should I climb for the top or cease to exist?


Reason and sorrow to sweetest wits end,

Ignorance and wisdom dance, twist, and bend.


Grey rains fall and tired eyes swell

Never again to kiss or to tell

It is ever-breaking fragile pain,
Thinly-strung lightning-flames.

It is stressing, tense, and pulsing life.
To force down grief, to strengthen strife.

It is flowing wonders' pouring heart,
A weathered, broken beggars' cart.

It is swimming through the sunlit air
On perfume-scented strands of hair.

It is sprouting springtimes luscious glade,
And lying down in burning shade.

It is a flashing trick of fading shadow,
In summer sunlights only meadow.

It is broken trust and spoken lies,
An angry haze in bleeding eyes.

It is sipping sweetness and pouting lips,
A flag of peace that snags and rips.

Hell threatens no pain,
I have suffered it all.

Death hides no fears,
I have seen them all.

Anger hoards no fury,
I have wasted it all.

Life offers no fire,
I have burned it all.

Longing loses no sorrows,
I am them all.