If you wake tomorrow
And I am gone,
Then know that I
Will be in some safer place,
And won't not return
No more.

If you wake tomorrow
But light is dim,
You will me not behold
For my silhouette is just a veil,
Flowing in the wind,
Evermore.

If you wake tomorrow
A little colder,
And my shadow is
The only fragment left of me,
I have your dreams
Restored.

If you wake tomorrow
To a silence,
Leaving you trembling
The voice you hear is not me,
But a sigh deploring in
Your core.

I keep my feet in shallow waters.. grounded.. for fear of drowning.
He swims out with nothing to tie him down nor to keep him afloat.. doing only as he pleases uncaring of consequence.. seemingly fearless..
Seemingly..

I probably should have followed. Each of us learning something from the other.. an adventure and escape from the world's unjust doings.
But instead I stayed.. stuck. Tied.  happy in my oblivion.
I watched my stranger swim into the darkness.. perhaps back to his clandestine island in the Gulf somewhere.. back to his mistress.
I stand with a restriction of my own now and a cloak and dagger to protect me from the darkness and save me from drowning.
Fare well, Stranger...
Hello, sound lover.

A dormant waste land of white
Turns into lush beauty overnight.

Spring itself is given away by the daffodil flowers
Whom have impeccable timing powers.

The momma birds are tweet, tweet, tweeting
And the baby birds are cheep, cheep, cheeping.

And the sunlight,
Oh the sunlight!

Through the leafy canopy I see it shine-
I sit back and smile because this day is all mine.

I can't believe it's finally here,
My favorite season of the year!

Don't you dare think
There isn't one **** minute
I go
Without thinking about
You.

Just because I don't
Initiate a conversation
It doesn't mean
I don't
Care.

In fact
It means that
You
Mean more to me than
Anyone else.

So quit wallowing
In your own self pity
For two seconds
And
Think.

I slide into your eyes, and wonder just how long you will permit me to stay there.
Your pupils trace the bases of
Craving
Braving across my face
And I wonder if you can feel the pace in which the taste of you runs through the recollection section of my dome
And I wonder if the flare behind the glare of your stare is enough to slide you
Home.

Would you now go spitefully hating the sun
Or go viciously plundering pretty flower beds
Or go crushing underfoot, fall leaves in contempt
Or turn gently  into the fresh fold of snow?

Come, come, dear child, hold out thy hands
Let me gently embrace thy spindly frame
And divest thee of thy onerous cloak
For thou art at journey's end; thy vessel awaits repose.

If I told you which season you'd die in
Would you relent with ease, when the hour falls upon you?
Should you know I'm not as fearsome as most believe
Could you surrender the lent Light I must return?

You already know the answer without knowing
For it is not how you look, but how you look!
You no longer remember, it's been so long
So, I ask it plain: Would you really want to know?

You are not just a spoke on the wheel of Life
Which needs to, as the seasons, turn resolute
Yet you pass through them all, simultaneously
Save, your linear faculties confine your esoteric bridge.

Take joy in aestival airs, the apex of fruition
Springtime soil so easily squandered, bear in mind
Access  introspective glimpses with  hiemal hibernation
Autumnal foliage is but a screen, time to get real!

You cannot have the sunshine without the rain
Nor expect fine blossoms without fair travail
Seek thus the true bounty bedecked in full view
If you had but the seer's eyeless sight, dear guest.

As you travelled from one season to another
Did you live fully, even in between them?
Yes, the tiny labyrinth-passages you overlooked
Time to exact the price now run overdue.

Too attached you are to world and kin
For none of these, can you take with you
But beneficial acts and and good intent
Cosmic trick of genes is cecity delivered.

The one whose life you may regard so worthless
Retains a level which allows his soul to pass through
The eye of a needle, not measured in numbers
Hoist your soul on, tilt your core... I carry you home

So, come, wayworn traveller, hold out thy hands
Let me tenderly close thy brief visit here
And divest thee of thy onerous cloak, prithee
For thou art at journey's end; thy vessel awaits repose.



Star Toucher, 24 March 2013