This is the point of no return
The point where the roads no longer converge
The point where endings don’t meet
And the last tear of sacrifice has dripped.

All the path is ablaze
All spin of memories wrought
Photographs and visions burnt
And the birds of darkness have flown across the coast

Swirl and hurl into a tailspin of sins
Flesh is intact but scars won’t heal
It leaves a mark so indelible it cannot be healed
Pains of the past keep repeating
Soul in solitude, now in misery

We walked along this dreaded path
Scathed, restless like streams
By the river, we promised the moon we shall move on
Time said I did, and still I am
Yet alone, yet in vain

For life is but fair
Fair to child’s fragile heart hoping
Fair to every dream candid
Fair to every life not spared

The destiny weeps for my daunting decisions.
I feel sorry for my life.

Indelicate is he who loathes
The aspect of his fleshy clothes, --
The flying fabric stitched on bone,
The vesture of the skeleton,
The garment neither fur nor hair,
The cloak of evil and despair,
The veil long violated by
Caresses of the hand and eye.
Yet such is my unseemliness:
I hate my epidermal dress,
The savage blood's obscenity,
The rags of my anatomy,
And willingly would I dispense
With false accouterments of sense,
To sleep immodestly, a most
Incarnadine and carnal ghost.

It’s a place of healing,
the forest floor.
A place alive with secrets and knowing.

My learned sense of reality catches on the brambles and thorns as I pass,
and the tentative uncertainty of my untrained step
loosens with the soil on my feet
in the puddles on the path.

It’s a place of healing,
the forest floor.
A place intent on living.

Where each movement beneath the
towering company of life informs the next.

A little slower this time.
A little softer.
More quiet.

And with each surrendering breath,
another can be heard.
One more colossal and unified in its polyrhythmic sway.  
The trees and vines and creatures with their watchful eyes,
and the earth underfoot,
swell and recede in a merry yawn.

On my twilight walk to fetch water
the dark patiently dilutes all colour,
but allows detail a stolen moment to define my way.
The texture of bark on the lean oak trees around the spring,
the burbling contortion of their reflection at its yielding mouth,
the lichen-rough rocks,
smoothed at the water's edge,
all persist and scintillate into grey.
The soft pricked dendrites of moss cushion my knee
as I slip and fall,
one foot in the spring!
And my scream and giggle pierce the listening night,
and there is no other human being in sight.
So I sit. Wet and still. In the moss.
For tonight, when the darkness stretches its veil impenetrably-tight
over the forest I shall be inside,
to find my place within it's creeping, writhing breath.

Its a place of healing,
the forest floor.
Where living things may grow.

You met me at transition.
Got a sip of rebirth, but...
your energy swallowed me whole.
I got lost in it, let myself have my fill,
forgot to walk the road to ascension.

This is where I led myself, to the black hole inside me.
shaking hands with my most unwanted guest.
I sink in my own gravity,
without your familiar energy to levitate me.

What a strange time to collide,
at my prime i'm left in tatters.
forgot my own bright ball of energy.
Now I have to find my way back again.


Find it back again....

We parted ways
it was uncivil , uncaring ,
unclean cuts still linger in my body
the wounds have seared open and snapped shut at the mention of your name .

it frustrates me , still .
how you were ,
how I was ,
and who we are now .
neither of us comprehend the damage done to one another
our mouths open when our backs have turned .

You are still beautiful to me though ,
But I will not admit it .
And I am still your best friend
but you don't hear these words when you read them
to know they are wrote for you .

We lie together as we always do .
stolen moments of pleasure in our bed of wood and fairy lights that dance above our heads as halos do for the innocent .
Your heart in chest against my back,
Your breath tickles my neck.

My neck feels the pressure as my hair is trapped in the silver lace ,
My feet are blue,
My palms are red-
and I am guilt .

I could relieve the pressure 'round neck and 'round lip
To others we are pathetically in love.
To me , we are pathetic ,
To you , we are in love .

I could not be failure to you .
And so my neck still feels pressure,
And my lips breathe lies .

cold water, harsh ripples
grey clouds, unmoving
never nodding, never agreeable
I could do this
yes, I can, I can
I will
yes, yes
small steps, tiny steps
yes, I could do this
colder water, harsher ripples
howling grey clouds, unmoving
never nodding, never agreeable
they are taunting
mocking, spitting pebbles
no, I can't do this
I can't, I can't, I can't
they're taunting, mocking, laughing, pointing
stop, stop, stop taunting, mocking
stop
please
stop
coldest water, harshest ripples
screeching grey clouds, unmoving
never nodding, never agreeable
cold, so cold
I will get out of this cold
no more taunting, mocking, laughing, pointing
no more cold
yes, I could do this
yes, I can, I can
I will
yes, yes
smallest steps, the tiniest steps
yes, I could do this
ice water, murderous ripples
yes, I will.

Stranger, I'm sorry.
I haven't met
You yet,
but when I do,
I'm afraid that all I'll feel
is warm limbs
and dusted lips.

Again, I'm sorry,
but not wholeheartedly.
Too much at stake.
I've too much time
that cannot be spared.
And these flames,
they won't dissipate.

I can't have it happen
because when it does
these feet will be doused
and my heart will explode
from not running about.

You'll become them,
my passions,
and, needless to say,
they're jealous of me.
They cannot share.
I am so loved.
I am so loved.

I'll shut it out,
You, for now, because
I'm afraid it may come too soon.
I pray you know that
I can't amble yet.
I've still too much to do.