I wished that I were He
Or
She were You  instead
But Time a fickle Artisan
Had other Hands  to Thread

Nothing is duller than the ache
For what was never Ours
A Phantom casts no Lover
Nor answers when implored

Cease the Calling Ghostly Whim!
The Wind will not return
A Flame once fed on Vacancy
Must teach itself to burn
Itself to Burn!

~
Young clothes to age
dissolve & drift beyond the quiet grave
I may not know I may not know
The door with no unlocking key.

Yet still Reality persists
A stream that ebbs & flows
Where Time & Truth collide
& I a wisp upon its shore.

~~

~
If She is Spring & I a Tree
Skeletal, in Winter's grip
My Tears have long since fallen
Like Leaves that Time forgot
No more to fall, no more to weep
But come, oh come, with gentle Hand
& touch me, as the ripples stir
In some unfathomable Sea
That I may bloom & fall again
To weep & shed anew.

~~
Come my love & touch me
Let me bloom thrive into verdant green
So I can shed my leaves & cry again for thee.

~

She Said,
"I was his Strawberry Moon
Red & dim
Lambent with love.
But he never stepped into my light
Never felt my red beams.
And now…
Time is gone.
Time is gone."
~
& after all, what did he reply?

~
She is mute
&
I'm blind.

~
When I lost myself
In a sandscape of low drive.
Burnt out like a fallen leaf
In the storm!

~Indifferent~

Lizard king appeared in my dream
In the form of a whirlwind.

—Jim Morrison,

Riders on the Storm!


~~
Alright, c’mon, arise!~~