My best friend and I like to say we're going to end up
working in the same hospital one day.
We have to believe something.

But, right now, all I can think is that
we're very cute
for laying out these adorable, little future fantasies.

I bet the universe would be laughing at us
if there was anything there to do the laughing,
but there isn't.
No path is decreed out of spite or favor.
There's nothing there to do the decreeing.

It is chance that rules our game,
thoughtless chance,
a million cards falling exactly the way we hoped.

I do not pray for the world to do right by me
and give me the ends I am due.
I pray for luck.

And then I hug my best friend like it might be the last time I see her, and pretend that I have the choice to never let go.

White earth bathed upon
By moonlit tangibles ; purring
Waves upon the glimmer sands
Where lovers meet for their first:

Liquid earth ****** between
The lips of night,
We shed the skin for the transparent
Soul crowding the hopes and dreams
Of the lone lovers,
The eternal moment is a an image
As naked as thoughts,
As wild as a shared fury
In the truth  of our suffering;
How had one lived without the other?

There is no contemplating
Between the young and in love,
Only the ressurection of presences
Where lovers before met at the hour,
And behold the incarnation of lovers
Doing, making,
Transfigured in the truth of each other.

When winds at night on windows roar
wax runs out dies candle's flame
you would hear a knock upon door
a familiar voice calling your name.

Don't respond nor open the eyes
the voice is keen over winds' howl
grows it louder its pitches rise
scaring even the brave barn owl.

Pull the blanket up your head
you are safe so long you hide
lie dead quiet not move on bed
with mom asleep by your side.

Between the pause your fears mount
if is a chance to be found out
one two three the calls you count
but count it right leave no doubt.

Three times the voice would call your name
for it has no power to do any more
but move onto where dies a candle's flame
and a child is awake behind closed door.

The fiery wind burns our skin
this simmering summer noon
but our resolve is not paper thin.

the river is all ours
I tell her
and she whispers love notes.

When we retreat under the banyan
she scans the grey for clouds
and I her eyes for a mystic hint.

how lovely it would be
if it rains now
she says.

it would
I swear by the river.

We walk away
dreaming good crop
swaying in the river wind.

Heavy chested I breathe
as the moon whitewashes the night.

The season is changing
and in the wind is the vapor of hyacinth
in the thick of which
the glowworms drink the nectar of night.

They have no philosophy and I have many
like while they dance just for the sake of life
my mind enveloped in obscurity
has shackled my feet and clipped my wings.

I wonder if the glowworms have a mind
that knows when they dance
they have an audience.

Maybe the stars know the same way
when they twinkle.

Up the steep steps
as you reach the age old fort,
you breathless behold
the green valley down below
and that magnificent mound of rock
by the name Robinson Hill.

In the sweet silence of birds' chirping,
the winds reek of rifles and gun smoke
and you hear not the rustling leaves
but bullets echoing all over the valley
one more down, another down
as they held the fort till fell breathless
passing into tombs and memorials
you read to pause for a breath
up above the green valley
where the grasses grew over the blood.

my soul
in
the
shape of mountains
that
roam
the earth
And
be still

autumn
gathered
all
her leaves
again
while
her
beauty broken
by
the wind

I wrote a poem
hoping to give
it to you, will you
even read it?

I wrote it with an aching
heart, will you
ever read it?

The poem I wrote
was given a melody,
will you, will you
even hear it?

I am not a singer
nor a great writer
but will you
even hear my
heart?

will you?


© Pax