seeing an array of colours
walk, walk stand, people with
lost wandering eyes
feet in search, directed at
aimless circles to be fulfilled

a heart of purpose
sits quietly cornered
in a wooden four legged
chair, fixated eyes

searching for that same
direction within means
filled with hope to seek
purpose behind people,
lost in the
invisible.

Each morning remember that you may not live until evening;
and in the evening,
do not presume to promise yourself another day
Be ready at all times,
and so live that death may never find you unprepared,
Many die suddenly and unexpectedly...

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

Let your word
Not be wasted
In the ears of stubborn

      Let your silence
      Silence  the noise
       Of ignorance and negativity.

       hold silence
       Is to be at peace with  yourself
       Know the worth of your word

      Trust the process
      Stay in faith
      create the future you ought to have

      And where you ought
      To be.

two in love, a picture found
hair as dark as midnight brushed up
against olive skin carelessly their strands
strayed in a lovely mess feather light
jawbones grazing the scalp
of this lost, doe eyed girl

straight, long eyelashes batted
against the eyebags you never had
somehow still those eyes were
never truly asleep in a facade
without the guilt of a lie

a gentle smirk painted across
that beautiful face you had
lighted treaded freckles
the softest of brown eyes
that always held cunning

mysterious how those eyes
asleep against her waved strands
managed to pretend for care
a yellow collar you had
a woman under your spell

and i had too, those brown eyes
beneath the thinnest lies
stood betrayal beyond lust
unimagined sin
without regret

in this picture
we slept

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands