I reduce myself to ashes of your essence,
beautifying those wild streams from yesterday,
trails from the epicenter of an eternal fury.
Only if the needle stopped, only if the Universe died for you to live.

Covered with the  bittersweet cloak of what is bearable,
Flooded with foam from an endless rage of loneliness.

Delicate hypocrisy, fooling us intermittently
never giving up on the anodyne torment.
In a sovereign sway,
who rules our lives with mild-mannered dourness,
we sneak scaling amongst scarlet scales,
flying towards the impossible,
dreaming of a gaze from memoryless constellations,
crystal metamorphosis bursting inside you.

Lacking apparent moulding,
trusting your smile,
rushing into a leap of faith,
and laughing, absorbed by dazzling darkness,
we look at each other blindly
                   seizing the infinite.

Sophia's parents
(Polish refugees
during WW2)  
have a large crucifix

above their double bed;
wooden, with a plaster cast
Christ whose features are dour,
some aspects chipped.

She enters the room;
a smell of staleness,
pipe smoke,
her mother's

old fashion scent.
She looks at the crucifix;
kneels on the bed,
and rubs the feet

of the plaster cast Christ;
remember the time
when her parents
were away for the day,

and she brought
that Benny boy in here
and they made love
on the bed,

she laying there,
tapping his buttocks
to ride him on;
looking up

at the features
of the dour Christ,
no change of expression;
Benny's fast breathing

hot by her ear,
the whole arena
somehow surreal,
lacking meaning,

a purposeless show.
After he'd done
and left
and she tidied up

and made the bed
and smoothed
the covers
and looked

at the Christ
the dourness
was still there,
but a sense

of disappointment
hung in the air.

Unfortunate? Unforeseen? How a future life unfolds. Unmade, unloved. Unlit. Unwound.

Merciless moments. Their memories mashed mindlessly into the mud. Barbs and barbarism crippling and cutting to the core.

You slip slowly, slinking, sidling sadly into the shadows.

Darkness descends, days drift by in a doze.

Time trudges and turns. A timely toss is taken.

The coin climbs, circling against circumstance.

YOU WIN.

Love lingers in least looked locations. Hearts thawed, filled full from frozen formation.

A tender touch transforms.

The brittle, broken bones begin to bind.

Sunshine smiles against sallow shores.

Laughter leaps from lip to lip. Loving looks linger.

Doodles become Da Vinci. Darkness a dawn. Dourness a day trip. Detriment to divine.

Deep breath... and dive.

Trust, in me
Sour and ageless hope
Turned to evocative we
Still a threshold of since, and a clash with youth

Places to divulge
Animosity in a craving hour
To tell a rhyme and a reason, from work's we indulge
Are ourselves, the name and meter of compelling dourness?

To live with the brazen promise
Turned to instill, and the austerity of could...
Courage sake a welcome, to lip's we advise
Are ours, for a sight, a kiss and a levity of when would...

Age keep a smaller promise, in the name of being
Wishes and fortunes day, to realize a calling
Taken from your strive, your hidden senses, leading
A wholeness to winds of voice, and its vision, the passion galling?

Strength in a clarity to detail the silence, welcome
Thought's and endeavor, to still the notion of veracity, plain
Justice and callous here, to befriend the gift of seldom
And history in a learning curiosity, to understand same

A charity that has stood for you...
Energy's and careful reply's, to risen help and the health we intone
Taken to reasoned shares in a destiny to accrue, the unity of beauty
We ask for only a second chance, at the revelation of needs, we maybe have already won?