We stand in twilight hues...
Fingers consciously entwined in a clasp.
We speak without vocals
that crescendo between sighs and gasps.

We anticipate...
But we do not look forward...
Not to the promise of freedom and salvation.
More so the uncertainty
that resonate with the *****
of feathered morning birds.

The unknown scares us so.
We know not of what lurks,
in the impending light of day.
We simply bide the ticking seconds...
As we scramble for the right words to say.

When there needn't be such uncomfortable silence.
No need for an awkward stance.
For we've embraced the melody,
memorised the lyrics
and rehearsed the dance.

Yet...
We hesitate...
Even though we've decided that we must.
For what shadow that looms agape below us,
hurling threats of swallowing us whole,
will soon be warded off...
As quick as the errant gust.

The darkness...
Will soon be cast behind our backs.
And all would be committed to memory
as surely as it had begun.
It would dissipate as it would stretch far...
But only if we turn to face the dawning sun.

when my eyes close under weary stars
i see a field flooded with dawn
my feet tickled with dew-pearls
and surrounded by delicate fawn
i see not the bitter tragedy
that strikes my open eyes
just the peaceful grazing
i could only hope to memorize

Resting my head
on my hand that rested
on my elbow
I was
facing her

and..

I asked the sun
to stay asleep
for an hour longer
the other night

I asked it to keep the stars
awake for one more hour
being selfish, I wanted to devour
every bit of darkness
left before, she awake

I asked the moon to glow
on her face, to show me every wrinkle
to show me freckles
to show me scars
in the most magical of ways

I asked the stars to leave
some shine in her hair
because the night needs more stars
and she' should be
the brightest of them all  

I asked the night sky
to fall on her skin
silhouetting that beautiful
valley between her chest and waist
I asked the sky to
calm all sense of anxiety
warming it with its silence
for when she rests
I rest too

I asked the wind
to caress her being
as she lay there, next to me
serene, breathing
shunning away all the nightmares
that haunt her, behind closed eyes

I spoke to her dreams
I asked them to introduce me to her
once again
I asked them to tell her
to show her, that it's me
write a memory of me
that she'll remember in the morning
that she'll wake up smiling to
I asked her dreams nicely
to put me in her mind
again

I asked the mystery of the night
to give me the courage
to tell her what goes on
in my mind
with her

I ran my fingers slightly
removing those curls that hide her face
only to see her
smiling
in her
sleep

As dawn walked away from the bus station she left behind a few drops of sunlight for me to find.
At first I could not dare to touch them for they were far too bright.
It's funny how things happen when you don't try.
When I tried to look for them they were already dry.
The bus arrived a few minutes ago but I did not take it.
Staring at it speeding away into the abyss of the mountain, I pretended to wait for the next one.

As noon came I decided to take a little walk.
The sun is way up emitting white, yet the wind is rather a sweet color blue.
It seems that I always take this walk when I'm alone.
Taking time to feel the streets and let the nature be my compass.
I can't help but look up to the sky from time to time.
The clouds are starting to uncover up my eyes, I pretended to wait for the next one.

As dusk seduced me into her path I blindly followed through.
However, wearing a fake smile is difficult at times.
Upon noticing myself, my eyes knelt down towards the pavement,
unnerved she decided to leave me there by station 172.
What I saw was a single drop of a faded light.
I don't know if I can wait until tomorrow, I can't pretend to wait for the next dawn.

All within the dyed robes of rhyme,
and the subtle dispatches of sinful woe...
Enchanted in wisdom; a pilgrim's trot,
waging and waling at the spot.

Fringing at the hands that drew his fate,
ever so lonesome in his wait.

With scattered fears, roaming earth,
in search of what, truly, is dear and dirth.

There is much freedom, need I say, in passing time...
In the careless precision, pattern, and chime!

Dearest dreams, do float away,
and water my sight, with not grief this today!
While sweetest passions, of ides a-due,
devise in garnishing thoughts of two!

Later mine hearts, when candles do,
shalt guidance us to all, when I am through!

And when thine waters cease further fall,
all virtues when on then, shall hitherto stall...
Beware of that widow, that mocks at our night,
in pitch perfect light, stings mostly she might!
for when golden braids,
spike at God's feet,
away, shalt thy singing,
make surely we meet!

A.r. Bazian

I want to remind you of the sun,
Its light will come again,
And no matter how dark it seems to get
The darkness always ends.
And I know it may seem impossible
Like it will forever go on
But I'm telling you the darkest hour
Is just before the dawn.

Very early before the birds
the morning moon travels to underworlds
gathering stars and seas of glowing pearls
when swift the sweep of darkness goes
the night from black to indigo
blue in layers, the light unravels
then wends the coming day
the dawning sky of gold.