Why does the morning pass by so quickly?
The grey light fades steadily away
as the sun reaches the top of its ascent.
Empty coffee cups, the bottom layered with grounds,
sit on the desk by the window.

Sewn into the fabric, intricately woven,
the multi colored threads begin to overlap
and are tightened, pulled through by the sure hand
of the passing hours.

The outline blurs,
the voice of memory begin to dissolve.
The faded face mouths the words
but I cannot remember the sound,
lost to the piling sands
at the bottom of the hourglass.

Horns of triumph sound,
showering the day with a golden glow!
Apollo in his blazing chariot rises from the east horizon, reigns in hand as he flies towards the stars with the morning light tethered tightly behind
his shining carriage.

Eyes long blinded ache from the coming morning,
the dew on the grass shines in radiance
and an emerging smile escapes from lips tightly held together.

A laugh escapes!
The head rolls back, the eyes begin to water!
A gasp for air, a friend held tightly to your chest!

The mournful songs of the lasting night fade to blurred memory, drowned in new light.
The flicker behind a smile that was lost in the white moonlight cracks open again, one that was forgotten deep within the darkened cave.

The first time come again!
A child’s giddy laugh tolls from a mouth set in stone.
A stomach full of nervousness, a mind that will not rest.
I exist on a single beam of light in between two oceans of stretching, black infinity, and I walk the line as a tight rope, balancing deftly with my eyes in the clouds, and a pen held tightly in my hand.

Shades of blue, the morning doves throaty coo,
each second leaps and bounds, elastic stretching and it’s twanging rebound.
The tension in the rope that can’t help but reverberate, and love in exasperation, shiver as the chills come once again.

Eyes met twice, a joy to be now with no questions asked, no thoughts but what the others thoughts are, and how long a moment can actually last.

Nostalgic tones of youths throaty chords ring through the dreary sea, sending the still waves tumbling and crashing, setting a tranquil man into motion once again, releasing the tension in a brow long furrowed, in shoulders tightly hunched, and ending the silence of a tongue held once too many times.

The Sun Gods booming laugh echos down the valley,
a reverberating sound that even the soaring eagle must stop and perk his ears too, losing sight of the mouse he had planned for breakfast, forgetting all but that musical tone.

When the light comes, when the dawning sun rises again, let your eyes water and overflow, let your heart swell and stomach twist, let the chills flow like the white capped river, feel the rapids of emotion that erode even the strongest rocks in the way of the current.

Now I am and I am now,
I bathe in the light and let a smile touch my lips, with my arms spread softly apart.
I take a deep breath of the cool morning air, filling empty lungs to the straining brim,
Oh, the first time come again!

The poles have shifted, the tide retreats from the shore!
Shanty lines revised and rehearsed
upon a crumpled paper covered with speckled dirt,
to make a lasting impact at the foot of the blackened hearse.

Does she hear me, this woman trapped in portrait?
The frame it yields and shakes mid rotation,
teetering back and forth as a compass without
magnetism, in circles as a ship lost to the starless night.

The painted woman with her knowing smile bores
her eyes into mine, her flashing irises projecting
from her world into ours, from her reality into mine.

My eyes blur and a vision dances for me,
a water color flow, with daisy tunes lost
in a shimmering and shifting mist,
swirling colors bear together, mixing and connecting,
rubbing and repelling, crossing my eyes in its intoxicating motion.

My mouth slacks and my shoulders sag,
lost in the trance of this melting scene,
and it’s dragging pull.

Excited I ran to show them, to show what I saw,
but they didn’t listen, to them I speak in gibberish.
I smirk and feel my face begin to melt, my ears drooping and my nose falling, the drops fall
and a puddle begins to form under my feet,
before dribbling slowly down the drain on the floor,
In a watercolor swirl.

A stirring breeze, the cracking of twigs
A cup full of wine, overflowing to the brim
Passed around the circle, with my happily chatting friends.

The pops of logs sing ablaze,
As the orange flames slowly fade away.
The friends scatter, each take their leave and bow their heads,
And so begins the inevitable bleed of today
into the coming sunrise of tomorrow.

In the flames flickering shadows I lay,
With the chirping insects I mingle.
Allow me to catch up with my mind,
Become closer to the baton, extend my hand in reach
If even just a little.

They hummed to the tune of Hallelujah,
While passing tools along the rafters.
No harness worn, no rope in sight,
They sing and dance and spit and shout,
On two foot wide boards,
On the side of a concrete mount.

Arms around shoulders, a creaking smile covers my face, a camera with a flash
And stamp on the envelope,
I watch as the colors of now fade into the past.

A shimmering fountain, the water runs over the sides
And the bottom is lined with copper coins.
The water reverses, falling upwards,
A dream I saw once of a haunting tune but in reverse.

Lay down my friend, I pat the dirt beside me
Give me a tether point to grasp, a rope to hold,
Something to catch, to pull me from the trail that never ceases to wind, In on itself in spiraling descent.
I can feel the one beside me start to give me slack.

And down I go, jerking at first, in intervals
And then I am let loose, the spiraling of the coil
As the rope rages between the mechanism
And a final snap as it breaks from my momentum.

The entrance to the maze opens in front of me,
I try to turn my head, my heart pleads and it begs,
But I cannot stop my legs from pushing forward again.
Into the labyrinth, my first few steps echo against the stone walls, as I turn my head and it begins to shift, tossing me to the side and on my back and rolling and sliding, as it laughs
At my vane struggles to find a grip on the smoothed stones.

Oh Janus, oh Choice, the gamblers dumb luck
Which door to choose, which life to live
Which riddle to pick, which answer to find!

A tragic heroine, I watch as the dice they roll
I see it unfold and I know with sighing regret my tale will be told.
A quiet bow and an exit to the right,
I take the steps off the stage and out of the light,
Making my way to the auditorium seats, all packed to the brim, but with space enough for me, and one more after that.

I once heard someone say that
Life is like being aboard a slowly sinking ship
Or trapped in burning building, I cannot remember,
But I believe it is a body left to rot
On the forest floor, steadily feasted on
By maggots and the other feeders,
Decomposed till all that remains
Is an ivory skull with vines growing
Through hollow eye sockets.

They sing from along the path,
lined like torches would, evenly spaced.
A hazy wood surrounds me,
swirling trees and melting hues
of a late summer afternoon,
fiery colors dancing and melding together,
flowing to the next,
cream in a Sunday morning roast.

The colors, the chimes
they illuminate my stumbling journey,
my tottering travel.
I stop and catch a gaping breath,
bent over, panting, and begin to listen.

The wind pushes the trees,
it sounds the chimes colliding ring,
it exists in flux,
rising in singing ascent
and exhaling in a comforting sigh.

Drifting down the path,
I separate and regenerate
With each glitching step forward
my face distorts, rearranges.

What is the source of verse, of thought?
Rehearsal, a precursor who holds us like
a ventriloquist through time, or is it just
a keen ear for your minds own
singing wind chimes?

I peek out my window and see her,
Lady Twilight in her shimmering black gown,
walking up my cobblestone path.
She walks slowly, at ease, looking from side to side
and moving in her flowing stride, up to my doorstep.

I creak open the door and her eyes rise to meet mine
and she grins, a soft smile etching her smooth face.
Her head tilts ever so slightly to the side, her raven hair
hanging from behind.

The warm rays of the day have given way to the enveloping gray,
a hanging light clings to her outline, lit by a hidden source.
Hues of deep blue and violet shades mingle through the air,
suppressed to black as the sun makes it steady retreat.

She takes a step to me and raises her arm slowly,
placing her softly on my shoulder.
I break contact with her eyes and look down,
trying not to see as Lady Twilight quietly fades away.