Visions ran through the crags and crooked hollows of my hopes
I saw all sorts of delicious trouble, mingled in with deeper breaths of peace.
I saw a new man standing up from the place where the old had laid down
chains broken and shackles rusted to red flecked chaff in warm winds

If whispers could fan the flames again, and the night yield its dark
then drudging would turn to dancing,
and glances to long draughts of want.

There the old man comes again wanting all his way,
but the dead were never meant to rise this way
and I will not see another grace turn bitter in the bite
of all my selfish pull and plights.

So where from here, how to cross the great well known?
I do not know, but by God!
I am not staying here
and I wont go back

Change, a swift, rushing through me,
warm and deep and violent.
A sudden, sweet, and trying wind.

And carried in the tempest,
pain and parting have tampered with this fool,
and blown away the chaff, revealing what is new.

So here I, tender, worn, and trying to be brave
am basking in the gale
wafting with the scent of summer days.

Upon my breath, the misery of all the story told,
never spoken softly
but bellowed in the soul.
The deeper breaths I've breathed with you,
rich sweetness in the sum of sighs,
have splinted broken dreams
and lent your light to my darkened eyes.

I let upon a darkened place watching starlight in the grip of night,
silver embers strewn about the solemn fingertips of dark.
The hand of midnight cold, adorned with pearls of silent far off fire
even colder yet.

I watched through the hours, or so it seemed to me
But the silent hand of midnight jeweled has robbed my sense of passing points
and laid it gently ere aside,
and I succumb to sweetest theft, seduced, I surrender
all and any knowledge of moving, ticking time.

Such are the nights spent in your company
Such are the shadows filled with all your flesh
Such are you and I

Elusive and far are the comforts of knowing
now I must begin trust,
He who has deemed it so
that I should not know

How the late night wasteland has tempted me to waste, and
squander sleep with running from myself; and for good measure!
If any soul was not himself, than I
If any soul longed to be himself, than surely I
Ah but here there are only frivolities of speech which I present
For I cannot afford clarity obtuse; simple confessions of regret
Least walls be broken down and teeth to the grind be set
So let me quibble in the vaguery of verse and line
For such is the brief solace and respite, afforded to these nights of mine

I knew something once, it was a small thing, a steady thing
I knew that I was home,
that in those binds and burdens, I was, alas, not alone.

There was ground beneath my drudging feet that would not move
There was music in the air to which my ears had grown deaf,
but it was there in the breathing non the less.

In the night, stirring sounds were but your turning to and fro
and in the morning, lover's quarrels staving off your absence from the bed.
I would not relent, and you had learned to love the giving in.

You and I, us; and then there was all the world and all the rest.
This was the great and true divide by which all things were split.
There was all else, apart, aside; and then you and I, my head upon your breast.

But that is what I knew once upon a time.
Now I know nothing.