walking down the road
steps on crunchy leaves

looking up and down
humming to myself

feel the chilly breeze
smell the autumn air

taking it all in
each step, each leaf, each day
before you realise

another seasons passed,
and it’s already May

~
Then I was a coronagraph

Assuredly shielding the moon

Remembering the solar prominence

Putting those days to bed

Before airing grievances asterisk the universe

Rayleigh scattering overpowers me

Beaches sleep here

Mists inhabit this place

Today my mind has no light, is not part of the saros

I've called off the search, I know exactly where I am

I thought that I was caught by hope and dreams

Then realized I was only passing between them
~

Born by the spellbound of love and destruction, held like a pretense of heartstrings. Each crevice is traced to you, it is heavenly bestowed.
I was lovelorn, following the trails of this uncertain path engraved deeply that leads to you.

Your eyes were pits of abyss,
a gravity force of unknown,
a precipice before the great fall;
the moment that I found you is when I lose myself.

II. Abyss
And at the end, we'll all just be stories
burrowed in my skin, on each pale flesh is draped with what could have lingered. adorned with a chrysalis on my chest, it cages the hollows of the abyss. Then soon I'll be a fleeting moment you carry in your heart.

your trainers full of dirt
next to a Christmas decoration,
the woodpacker self-absorbed on a branch,
a pigeon floating on a current of mystery
I emptied of an I in the tenderness
of this fleeting moment

There was a moment
There was a time
You in my arms
Your heart beat with mine

I thought that I knew
I thought you were mine
I thought it was true
But only to find

It was only a moment
A snapshot in time
I look to that moment
To see I was blind

it seems
the blue lights
drift ghostly
past the windows
more often
these days
each occasion
bringing with it
a momentary
fleeting interest
in where
the drama is
currently residing
at who's pillow
might be
tear-stained
through the night
at who's door
fear and anxiety
are being permitted
to step inside
at who's house
has become
a closed film set
waiting to be
stripped of content
until only
walls doors windows
and memories
remain
but
as commercials end
attention returns
once more
to a stronger
more constant
source of
blue light
and all present
are thankful that
at least
the banshees
that wailing of sirens
has been silenced
in time